Bonded
by sinecure
Summary: While fighting a demon, Willow and Spike become bound to one another. *WiP*
1. Bonded part 1

Disclaimer: I own the plot. I own, the dialogue, and really that's about it. The characters and the world they belong to are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and all those others.  
  
Rating: R.  
Summary: While fighting a demon Willow and Spike become bound together. W/S pairing.  
A/N: This takes place after season 5. It's during the summer, a bit AU. Nothing is season 6 happened, or will probably. Buffy was brought back in an unknown way.  
  
Feedback: No, I can't stand the stuff. (That'd be sarcasm, ppl)  
Dedication: To Claudia, the best beta ever. Praise her, ppl, she's the reason this stuff is getting done so quickly, and why it's so polished and makes sense.  
  
  
  
PART 1  
  
Willow spotted the demon across the clearing. There was no way she could miss its tall, thin body, bare of any hair, and teeth as tiny and sharp as razors. It was ugly and mean looking and she was ready. Ignoring Spike, who was grumbling at her to hurry up, she closed her eyes and held her hands out, releasing the magical energy she'd held inside for too long.  
  
As soon as the magic left her body, she opened her eyes and watched as the large green ball soared through her palms and straight into... the ground beside the demon.  
  
"Damn," she muttered. Feeling elated and humming with magic, she decided to try again, but the demon didn't let her get to the chanting stage before it shot its own magic at her.  
  
She jumped to the right, toward Spike, trying to get out of the way of the black ball, but, unfortunately, Spike chose that moment to be heroic and pushed her out of the way. She ended up rocking slightly to her right, being pushed back to her left and getting a stomach full of magic. Spike's hand, still on her arm, attracted the magic like a lightning rod. It surged through him, and then dissipated.  
  
They stood there, staring at themselves, and then at each other, and neither of them noticed the second ball of magic headed toward them. They both became aware of the cemetery lighting up slightly with a red light, turning everything blood red, and then they were hit. It flew through Spike first, throwing him backwards a few yards.  
  
Willow ran over to him, checking to see if he was all right. As soon as she touched him, the magic surged through him and into her. Her back arched painfully, and then she collapsed. The light faded away, and silence fell once again.  
  
  
  
Anya, Xander and Buffy took off toward the light show, hoping that was where the demon had fled to, and at the same time hoping Willow and Spike hadn't found the thing. They had no idea what the demon was or what it was capable of, and since unknowns were more likely to get one killed, it was usually better to fall back and do research. But Spike had been in the middle of a fight with the demon when it fled, and, being a vampire, he'd been enjoying himself, and decided to take off after it before any of the others could stop him.  
  
Willow had been in the midst of a magical attack when the demon took off running, and the energy she'd built up to fling at the demon was still inside of her. Needing to divest herself of it, and at the same time, feeling euphoric and filled with power, she followed Spike while the others were occupied with picking themselves up off the ground.  
  
"Over here," Anya called. She ran toward the two prone figures on the ground, Xander and Buffy right behind her.  
  
The three of them knelt beside Willow, ignoring Spike completely. Xander leaned his ear against her chest, checking for a heartbeat. Buffy felt Willow's neck for a pulse. Anya held her hand in front of Willow's mouth, checking for breath. All three leaned back on their haunches after a few seconds with a sigh of relief.  
  
"What happened to them?" Anya asked, looking for injuries on Willow. Finding none, she looked to Xander and Buffy.  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. Magic? That light show we saw came from over here. They must have gotten whacked with something. There aren't any marks on Spike either, that I can see... not that I did any extensive searching. Let's get them to Giles'. We can check them out there."  
  
"Why did she go after it?" Xander asked them. "Spike I can see, but Willow? She's not the go-getter type. Well, except that time she went after Glory, but there were circumstances then."  
  
They all got to their feet, looking around for clues as to what had happened.  
  
"Let's get to Giles', then figure it out," Buffy repeated. "We have to get them out of here before the demon decides to come back." The surrounding area was demon-free at the moment, but that could change at any second. "Xander, help Anya carry Willow to your car. I'll get Spike." Anya and Xander carefully lifted Willow and started toward the car. "And hurry. You guys look like an All-You-Can-Eat vamp buffet."  
  
Half an hour, and much struggling later, they were all seated at Giles'. Neither Willow, nor Spike had moved an inch since they'd found them. It was a little unnerving, almost like they were dead. Well, dead with a finality dead for Spike, and just plain dead for Willow.  
  
After a cursory examination of Willow, Giles straightened up from the couch. "I believe they're asleep."  
  
"Asleep?" Buffy repeated. "That's the demon's big attack weapon? A sleep spell? I mean, sure it'd be cool if he was in a bind, but it was just Spike and Willow." Giles raised his eyebrows at her and she nodded. "Okay, right. Brute strength and magick, but... all right." She looked down at Willow, brushing a lock of hair off of the redhead's forehead. "Why aren't they waking up?"  
  
Xander was standing over Spike, who was on the floor in front of the couch. He looked oh-so-innocently at him and 'accidentally' kicked Spike as he stepped over him. Spike's arm sprawled away from his body. "Oops." Xander put his hand to his mouth, all innocence and contrition. "I'm sorry, Spike, I didn't see you there."  
  
The sleeping vampire didn't respond, but the others in the room did. Anya frowned at her boyfriend, Giles glared at him disapprovingly, and Buffy leaned over, putting Spike's arm back beside him. Then she glared at Xander as well.  
  
He had the good sense to look ashamed, but she knew he was anything but. Spike may have helped them over the past two years, even helped save the world a few times, but he'd also fallen in love with Buffy, chained her up in his crypt, and been there too late to protect Dawn from Doc. And because of that, Buffy had died. Not just a few minutes died, this time, actually dead died. There was a gravestone to prove it. And though Xander and the others had grown to like the vamp somewhat, that incident had set Xander against him again. He blamed Spike for Buffy dying. She was back now, but he didn't let up. Probably never would. There was just something about Xander and dead guys. He didn't get along with them.  
  
  
  
Willow woke up to a loud pounding. When she opened her eyes to the total darkness around her, she realized it was her head that was doing the pounding, not an external source.  
  
"That's the last time I go out drinking," she whispered to herself. "Oh, wait. I don't drink." She sat up slowly, trying to find a wall or something nearby to lean on. She found one a few feet away, and leaned against it gratefully. Her head felt like she was inside one of those annoying cars that were all speakers and bass. "Bloody hell."  
  
She halted her hand on the way to her head. Bloody hell? You've been hanging around British people too much.  
  
She closed her eyes, not that it mattered, since she equally couldn't see either way, and did a small spell to ease the aching in her head. After a few seconds, the pounding lessened and the pain minimized. "Better than aspirin," she mumbled, getting to her feet.  
  
Stemming the panic she felt, she focused on finding out where she was. There would be time enough to freak out later, after she was out of... wherever here was. Even still, she couldn't help but try to remember how she'd gotten here as she went.  
  
Since she couldn't see, the best thing to do would be to feel along the wall and try to find a door. She held her hands out to the wall, and felt her way along it for twenty steps before finally coming to a corner. That gave way to another corner after only three short steps. Then back down to where she'd been. Apparently she was in a corridor of some sort. But where? And why? Where were the others?  
  
Let's see... where was I? Cemetery. Big surprise. What was I doing? Well, duh, fighting demons. What else would I be doing there? Having tea with Spike?  
  
A strangled laugh escaped her, echoing down the hallway. She shuddered, and fell silent, hoping no one had heard her.  
  
Okay, focus. Focus. Cemetery... Spike. He was there. So were the others. No. That wasn't right. It was just her and Spike... and a demon. And some kind of magic... maybe.  
  
Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she brought her attention back to her surroundings. There was a corner that led to another hallway similar to the one she was in, and, having no other choice, she headed down it. She came to another corner about thirty feet down this time, and turned again. She did this at least ten more times before she was forced to sit down and rest. Her head was starting to hurt again... the spell must be wearing off.  
  
She held off on repeating the spell, not wanting to tax herself too soon, in case she was here for a long time. Wherever here was. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes.  
  
  
  
Spike turned down another one of the endless hallways and slammed his fist against the wall when he found it empty.  
  
"That's the last time I go out drinking," he told himself. Being a vampire, he was all for a world of darkness, but this was ridiculous.  
  
He inhaled deeply, trying to reign in his anger, and was assaulted by a familiar scent. Closing his eyes, he breathed in again. There it was again. He wasn't imagining it. He continued down the corridor, and rounded the bend at the end.  
  
There was a body curled up on the floor.  
  
He could hear her heartbeat, which was near normal, so he knew she was alive. But was she hurt? Unconscious? Only one way to find out. Kneeling down, he shook her a bit.  
  
"Witch." She didn't stir, so he shook her shoulder a little harder. "Red? Wake up, damn it." Stupid chit.  
  
"I'm awake, Oz, geez," she mumbled.  
  
Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. The witch still dreamed of dogboy, huh? He'd have to let it slip to the blonde witch when they got out of here.  
  
If they got out of here.  
  
He shook her again when she tried to fall back to sleep, and sat her up against the wall.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open slowly. Normal set of pupils. Bright eyes. Never noticed how big they were before, he thought.  
  
"I'm not stupid." She looked up in his general direction, squinting, as if that would help her see better. "Oz? No, not Oz, he's gone. Who's there?" She sat up straighter, blinking a few times, obviously just now remembering where she was. Spike saw the panic and fear hit her before she tamped them down.  
  
His grin held pure evil, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "William the Bloody."  
  
To his disappointment, and anger, the blasted girl actually calmed down. Where was the fear? The rapid pulse? The freaking heartbeat pounding in his freaking ears?  
  
Bloody stupid chip!  
  
"Spike?" she was saying. "Oh, boy. You have no idea how glad I am to see you. Unless you're the reason I'm here. In that case, I'm not happy to see you. But, I don't think you are... ow, stopping talking now."  
  
"Good," he told her cruelly, "because your voice is annoying my already pounding head."  
  
He rocked back on his heels, and stood up, waiting for her to follow suit. She stood fluidly, painting a pretty picture of grace and femininity... until she swayed and ended up leaning against the wall. Spike rolled his eyes. She couldn't even stand up without needing help. She was a pathetically weak human. The kind he hated most. The kind that made good dinners... for newly made vampires who didn't know how to hunt.  
  
"Any clue where we are?" she asked him, her whole face hopeful.  
  
He hated to crush that hope, but... well actually, he didn't. "Not a bloody clue."  
  
Her face fell, and he almost felt like he could maybe feel guilty for having caused it, but, no. He enjoyed hurting her.  
  
The witch closed her eyes, chanting something to herself. Magic spell. Uh-oh.  
  
"Don't--" he began, then felt a tingling in his head. He grabbed her arms and shook her angrily. "Bloody bitch. Keep your bloody magic to yourself from now on. That's probably how we got into this mess in the first bloody place."  
  
Willow shook herself free of his grip and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the wall beside him. "Fine then. Keep your stupid headache. Next time I won't help you... even if you're dying." She swept past him, knocking him into the wall with a shoulder to the chest. "And could you possibly say, 'bloody' any more? You'd think for a one hundred and twenty whatever old vampire you'd learn a new word once in a while."  
  
The pain in his head started to fade and Spike realized what Willow had done. A healing spell. On him. But why? There had to be a reason behind it.  
  
He turned and followed after her, just in time to see her slump against the wall. Must be all the magic she'd used earlier in the cemetery and just now.  
  
Now he felt slightly bad for yelling at her. But just slightly.  
  
"What are you doing, you dolt? If you're gonna use your powers, at least do something to help us out, light the way or something. I can live with pain. I've done it enough times. I can handle it until we get out of here."  
  
"If," she stressed. "And darn straight you should feel guilty." Taking a deep breath, she chanted some more and suddenly a yellow light was hovering in front of them, lighting the corridor.  
  
A long gray hallway led to a turn up ahead and behind them. Spike looked up, barely able to see a ceiling above them. Willow grabbed her head and fell to the ground.  
  
Spike sighed heavily. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. He'd never get out of here at this rate. He glared down at her, knowing he would have to carry her, or spend the rest of his unlife here.  
  
"Bloo-- damn."  
  
He bent over and picked her up, hefting her small weight in his arms. Willow didn't protest, since she was barely conscious. Her head lolled over his arm, and her cheek brushed against his chest. His skin tightened at the light contact, but he ignored it. It had simply been too long since he'd had intimate contact with a living, breathing creature. Or vampire. Or anyone. Robots didn't count.  
  
Willow giggled slightly. "Buffy bots don't count," she mumbled before passing out.  
  
Spike nearly dropped her.  
  
  
  
Xander sat on the arm of the couch, watching over the unconscious Willow and munching on a bag of chips. Giles and Anya were doing the research, while Buffy went home to check on Dawn. So far, not a peep had been heard from the sleeping couple. Research had turned up a name and a picture, but nothing else.  
  
The demon was called a Litchock demon. The drawing of it on the table in front of Xander was just like it had looked in the cemetery. Tall, lanky, all tiny razor sharp teeth and bare gray skin. The thing was just icky looking. Like a Borg with really bad incisors.  
  
Xander popped another Frito into his mouth and nearly choked on it when Willow suddenly started convulsing. The bag of chips fell forgotten to the floor as he grabbed her arms, holding her still.  
  
"Giles! Something's wrong," he yelled. Giles and Anya rushed over.  
  
Giles shoved Xander out of his way and held her by the waist. "Hold her arms," he ordered Xander, who had no intention of letting go of them.  
  
Her body arched up off the couch. If they hadn't been holding her, she would have fallen to the floor. Or rather, to Spike, who was still and silent. Xander was tempted to kick him again. Why should Willow be going through all this when Spike wasn't? It was all his fault.  
  
"What's happening to her?" Anya asked, sounding scared.  
  
"Seizure. We may have to take her to the hospital," Giles told them, his voice letting them know how serious it was.  
  
Willow calmed down a bit, and both men relaxed their hold on her. Xander was so busy glaring at Spike again, that her sudden resurgence of jerking took him by surprise and he let go of one of her arms. It flopped to the side, landing on Spike's chest, and suddenly she went still.  
  
All three of them stared at her, waiting for the shaking to start again, but it didn't. Xander, not wanting Willow touching Spike in any way, shape, or form, lifted her hand off of him. Immediately, she started to convulse again.  
  
Giles moved her hand back down until it touched Spike. She quieted again. He stood up, looking disgusted with himself, and took a deep breath, removing his glasses. "Of course," he said, "they're bonded." 


	2. Bonded part 2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.  
  
PART 2  
  
Spike set Willow down on the ground none too gently, and lightly slapped her face. "Wake up, Witch. Come on, Red, wake the bloody hell up." She stirred, but didn't wake up.  
  
Spike glared down at her, hoping against hope that what he suspected, wasn't happening. He could not be bonded to her. Bloody hell. Why did she have to follow him when he went after the blasted demon? Why couldn't Buffy have... no. No use thinking about that. What's done was done, and nothing was going to change that. Besides, it wasn't like it would change anything between them.  
  
~Wake the hell up, Witch!~  
  
He smiled in satisfaction when she jerked awake, her eyes finding his. The yellow glow thing was gone, had faded when she went to sleep, so she couldn't see him, but he could still see her.  
  
~It's about time you woke up, Witch.~  
  
"Hmm?" Her eyes slid closed.  
  
He shook her a bit, and she opened her eyes again, trying to look around. She groaned loudly. "Are we still here?" she asked, looking like she wanted to throw a temper tantrum. "No offense, Spike, I mean, yeah, I was happy to see you the first time, but now, I'd much rather see an exit." She stood up, looking stronger than earlier.  
  
Spike watched her carefully. She didn't seem to realize he could hear her thoughts. Or that she could hear his. Right now the link was pretty weak, but he knew it was getting stronger by the second.  
  
They had to get out of there. Now. Maybe Giles could figure out a way to stop it.  
  
In the meantime though, they were stuck in this... place. So he decided to screw with her a bit, and test the strength of the bond. He thought about old times with Dru, his first slayer during the Boxer Rebellion. That had been fun. Especially afterwards.  
  
"Come on then," he tossed over his shoulder, heading back the way he'd been carrying her.  
  
When he heard her angry thoughts, he chuckled.  
  
"Oh, but I am the boss of you right now, so hurry up."  
  
She gasped and stopped dead in her tracks. "You read my mind." She looked shocked. Then angry. "Stop it, you... thought thief!" She glared at him accusingly. "How are you doing that?"  
  
Spike laughed even more when a look of extreme concentration crossed her face as she tried to read his thoughts. She couldn't seem to focus well enough though. "Must be this place, pet." No use telling her they were-- oops, better not to think about it.  
  
Anger and embarrassment were pouring off of her, filling him like a sponge, and he had to close his eyes against the assault. He'd had some practice at shielding his thoughts when he was with Drusilla. She could sometimes sense things out of the blue, and it had made for some pretty big fights between them, so he'd learned to control them. He'd either erect a mental wall around the thoughts he wanted to keep private, or bring up old memories like he was doing now.  
  
Willow stalked past, trying to ignore him. Her heartbeat was faster than before, and her breathing a little shallower, and he knew he was getting to her.  
  
~One plus one is two, two plus two is four, four plus four is eight, eight plus eight is sixteen...~ she went on and on like that, trying to block out the images.  
  
He snickered at her.  
  
~Here, an exit, there, an exit...~ he thought.  
  
~Everywhere an exit, exit,~ Willow finished.  
  
And suddenly there one was. Right in front of them. Light poured through the opening and Willow grabbed his hand, pulling him toward it.  
  
"Wait! That might be--"  
  
"It's the way out," she told him, "I--"  
  
"Sunlight."  
  
"Know it."  
  
Spike and Willow both sat up, ignoring Giles' confused face as he watched them.  
  
"How could you possibly know it wasn't sunlight?" Spike asked from the floor, his tone thunderous.  
  
She didn't shrink from him as he'd expected her to do. She actually sat straighter, and glared at him. "I just knew. I felt it."  
  
"Yeah? Well feel this." He grabbed her hand and sent her pictures of some of the worst things he'd done, as well as some of Angelus' victims too. Horror and nausea seeped out of her and into him. After a moment, he stopped, and joined her on the couch.  
  
Her hand shot out, and she slapped him. Hard.  
  
"You little bitch," he hissed, wanting nothing more at that moment than to drain her dry.  
  
"Aw," she smirked, "but you can't. 'Cause you're Neutered Guy."  
  
Giles cleared his throat, earning scowls from the two of them. "Would either of you mind telling me what's going on? Other than the fact that you're bound, of course. I already know that part."  
  
Willow's eyes widened at the Watcher. "Bonded? With Spike? I'm bonded with-- oh, God."  
  
~And the witch gets it. Bravo.~ Spike thought snidely.  
  
"How?" Willow asked Giles. "I mean... how? It-- it's not permanent is it? Please tell me it's not permanent."  
  
"The demon you ran into in the cemetery was a Litchock demon. They're generally benign creatures, and aren't known to use magic, but from what Buffy and the others described, this one did." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "After they brought you here, you began to convulse, until your hand touched Spike. Physical contact after the bond starts is a necessity." He looked pointedly at their clasped hands.  
  
Both Willow and Spike looked at their hands, resting on the couch between them. She gasped and tried to yank her hand away from his, but Spike held on.  
  
"You don't want to do that," he warned her.  
  
"Why not?" she asked, pulling harder.  
  
"Willow, don't--" Giles began, jumping to his feet.  
  
"Fine," Spike spat, letting go of her hand. She fell back on the couch, her eyes sliding closed, and her body convulsing. Giles jumped forward, clasping their hands together again, and glaring at Spike. "Okay, she gets it."  
  
Willow sat up, recovering quickly. She was close to tears. "Is it permanent?"  
  
"No," Giles answered, offering her the only comfort he could. "Physical contact need only be kept up until the bonding wears off, anywhere from one to twenty four hours. After that, things will go back to normal. It's just a temporary bond, meant to keep you occupied and away from it. Apparently the demon saw you two as its biggest threat."  
  
"Twenty four hours?" Spike asked dubiously.  
  
Giles nodded. "That's just a guesstimate. It all depends on the demon, the circumstances, the magicks used... numerous factors having to do with the individuals as well. It's not an exact science. But I've never heard of an instance lasting longer than that."  
  
Willow nodded, pushing the panic threatening to choke her to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to freak out. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, she needed to concentrate on what Giles was saying, and ignore Spike's thoughts.  
  
And then Buffy walked in. Curious, and knowing that this was her chance to solve the question of whether or not Spike really was in love with Buffy, she watched him, but he wasn't giving anything away.  
  
Damn.  
  
~Well here we go, I'm sure she's gonna find some way to blame me for this.~  
  
Hearing the angry thought, and knowing he was right, Willow let go of his hand, and pressed her leg against his. He raised an eyebrow at her in question, and she shrugged, not even sure why she was helping him.  
  
"Willow! You're okay." Buffy rushed over and pulled Willow up, hugging her. Willow made sure her leg was pressed against Spike's. "I was so worried about you. Don't ever do that to me again."  
  
"Yep, we're fine. Nothing whatsoever wrong with us. Healthy as horses, right, Giles? Just a little beauty sleep." Willow stared at the Watcher, hoping he'd catch on.  
  
"Oh, yes. Healthy as... yes. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all," he mumbled, going back to the book he'd been perusing when they'd woken up.  
  
"Great to hear," Buffy said, relief evident in her voice. "Even you, Spike."  
  
Willow felt Spike's happiness at Buffy's words, but there was also contempt for himself. Desire burned in the background... normal stuff you'd expect to feel from someone in love. What she didn't expect to feel was the anger, hatred, and need to kill that same object of affection. Thoughts and images of violence and murder mingled with thoughts and images of love and sex.  
  
Willow's eyebrows couldn't have risen any further had they been pushed up. She looked to Spike, who stared back, unashamed.  
  
"... went home?" Buffy was saying.  
  
Willow and Spike both tuned in to the conversation between Watcher and Slayer.  
  
"Yes, about two hours ago. There was no point in making them stay just to watch Spike and Willow sleep. How's Dawn?"  
  
"Asleep, finally. I caught her staying up to watch TV after I left."  
  
Spike snickered in her mind. ~I've been staying up with the brat watching the telly while Buffy patrols.~  
  
Willow giggled in surprise. ~Me too.~  
  
Spike snorted with laughter, and Willow joined in. Buffy turned to them curiously, and they quieted to snickers again. They looked like children caught stealing cookies before dinner. Buffy shook her head.  
  
"What's wrong with you two?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"Nothing," they said in unison.  
  
Willow watched as her hand reached out to take Buffy's. It was interesting in that... she hadn't been the one moving her hand. Spike had.  
  
How far does this bond thing go? she wondered.  
  
~All the way,~ Spike answered.  
  
~Ew, don't even think about it, buster. I'm not about to start petting my best friend.~  
  
Buffy stared down at their joined hands, then up at Willow. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Willow? Miss me or something?"  
  
Willow dropped Buffy's hand and nodded emphatically. "Yes. Totally. I was scared. We were-- not we, just me. I was alone in my thoughts." She could hear Spike laughing at her in her mind, and frowned back at him. ~Shut up, or... I'll start thinking about cute fluffy bunnies.~ "See, 'cause I was stuck in them. That's what the magick did to us-- to me. Him too," she hooked her thumb at Spike, "only, in his own thoughts. Not in mine. That would have been... scary."  
  
~Bloody hell, Witch, you're giving me a headache. Do you have to think and talk at the same time?~  
  
"Oh, yeah," Buffy said, shuddering slightly. "Been there, done that. So not fun. Well, I'm going to go out and make another sweep, maybe find this thing and kill it." She looked at the two of them. "You're sure you're okay?"  
  
Willow sat down with a smile. "Uh-huh. Tired though, so, I'm going to go home." Her smile grew a little strained when Buffy didn't leave first. Uh-oh. How were they supposed to get out of there without Buffy noticing them touching? She looked desperately at Giles, who didn't seem to notice. She was on her own. And now Buffy was watching her funny, and Willow was freaking out, and Spike was laughing at her, and she hated him so much sometimes.  
  
~Only sometimes?~ he taunted her.  
  
~I'm doing this for you, you idiot. So, help me!~  
  
Spike finally sighed, and stood up, pulling Willow with him. "Come on, Witch, I'll walk you home, make sure nothing nasty gets you."  
  
He sounded so disgusted with her that she knew he wasn't faking it. She tamped down on the hurt and anger, not wanting him to know that he could make her feel an inch tall with his taunts. Spike didn't need to know everything about her, especially her insecurities. They were none of his business.  
  
"Whatever," she said, pushing him out the door with a hand to his back. Looked completely normal, she thought.  
  
"Ha!" Spike tossed back.  
  
"Shut up." Willow grabbed his hand and started home.  
  
A few blocks away from Giles' apartment, Spike veered off, trying to pull her across the street. Willow dug in her heels and pulled him to a dead stop. They stood there for a second, holding hands, each pulling in different directions, before Spike finally just yanked her toward him.  
  
Pain shot through her head, and she fell to the sidewalk, clutching her head. She landed hard on her knees, and bit back a yell. She could hear Spike cursing her in her mind, blaming her for the pain she was in, for making him cause that pain, and for delaying them because of the pain. "Screw you, Spike," she bit out, climbing to her feet.  
  
Spike was watching her curiously. "Hold on... you got the pain, not me. Don't suppose you'd want to go hunting with me? I kill and feed, you feel the pain? Come on, it'll be fun," he cajoled.  
  
Willow stared at him. Was he serious? Did he actually think she would even consider-- hearing his laughter, she rolled her eyes. "I really don't like you, Spike."  
  
Spike chuckled at her. "Liar. Come on, I need to grab some things from my place."  
  
"Do you have to? I'm tired. I want to go to bed." She knew she was whining, especially when Spike told her with his thoughts, but she couldn't help it. This night didn't seem to want to end. It was just one long endless suckfest. "Shut up, Spike," she said before he could comment on her last thought.  
  
"Fine. Seeing as how you're extremely anxious to get me into bed, let's hurry up and swing by my place, then to yours where you can put your pathetic ass to bed. And yes, I do need to go home, unless you'd like to be dinner." He turned to her suddenly. "Which, actually, could happen, what with you getting the pain from the chip and all. I could kill you without a thought."  
  
"Now who's lying?" Willow asked smugly. "Touch me, Buffy'll stake you."  
  
Spike grabbed her by the throat, not hurting her, but not being gentle either. He pushed her back against the brick wall store front. "Let's get something straight, Witch. I am not your personal punching bag, I'm not here for you to throw taunts at and make fun of, got it?"  
  
Willow nodded as best she could with his hand wrapped around her throat.  
  
"I don't appreciate the jokes at my expense, and I don't like being laughed at. I don't make fun of you for loving the blonde witch, do I?"  
  
Willow shook her head, which was again, rather difficult. "No." ~Let go, Spike, I can't breathe.~ Spike's hand loosened a bit, but he didn't let go. "I don't make fun of you, Spike." She closed her eyes, showing him times that she'd been made fun of, and how she'd felt. Cordelia and Harmony laughing at her clothes, making fun of her lack of friends... and then him, taunting her and Xander about being Buffy's lackeys.  
  
He jerked his hand back, as if burned, and grabbed her wrist. "All right, all right," he said irritably, dragging her across the street. "Keep your bloody pain to yourself."  
  
"Ditto," Willow agreed with a sigh. This bonding thing was hard on the nerves. And her head was killing her. 


	3. Bonded part 3

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.  
  
PART 3  
  
After getting the extra blood Spike kept at his crypt, he and Willow headed to her house. Her parents were gone for the week, visiting friends at the lake. Willow found herself wishing she hadn't turned them down when they asked her to join them. Hindsight was a bastard of a thing. After the lake, the Rosenberg's were going on a European tour, seeing basically everything there is to see. They'd be gone the whole summer.  
  
As it was, Spike and Willow would have the whole house to themselves, unfortunately they had to remain in extremely close quarters for the next twenty two hours or so.  
  
So not looking forward to that, she thought. Her thoughts were pretty much open for him to come in and take a peek, had he wanted to, but apparently, he didn't, for which she was grateful. Trying to shield her thoughts from him was taxing.  
  
Willow raised her hand to rub her head, but was stopped by Spike yanking it down again. Oh, yeah, Spike hand-holding. That was on a level that was so weird and creepy that she didn't even want to think about it.  
  
"Company," Spike said wearily, sounding as tired as she felt. "Bloody hell," he muttered when he saw who it was.  
  
Willow desperately tried to hide their clasped hands behind her back, but she knew it was fruitless. Judging by Xander's narrowed eyes, he'd already seen them.  
  
"It's not what you think," Willow said immediately.  
  
Spike snorted contemptuously. "You mean he can think?"  
  
Xander didn't stop for conversation, he simply walked up to them, and punched Spike in the jaw. Or tried to. Spike caught his fist before it even got near him.  
  
"Let me go, Spike, or so help me God, I will stake you," Xander ground out.  
  
Spike tightened his grip, his cold blue eyes watching as realization spread across Xander's face. "Back off," he told Xander, keeping his grip on the boy loose enough so Willow didn't get her brain fried right then and there.  
  
"Spike, let him go." Her voice cut through the men's anger, and they backed away from each other.  
  
"He's chipless, Will, we have to--"  
  
"No, he's not. He's still chipped. He can't, and won't hurt us. Right, Spike?"  
  
Spike shrugged noncommittally. "Haven't decided yet."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, please. Kill me and you kill yourself. Buffy, remember? Not to mention this bond thing. It might kill you too."  
  
Spike shrugged again, staring off into the night, pretending disinterest.  
  
Xander tried to draw her away from Spike, but she raised their clasped hands. "I can't let go."  
  
Tossing a hate-filled glance at Spike, Xander hugged her a bit. Spike shuddered in disgust.  
  
"This bond thing... did Giles figure it out?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Yeah. He said it would only last for twenty four hours, give or take. Not a big deal. I can handle that." She leaned forward, and whispered, "Not so sure about him though. He kinda hates me."  
  
Xander's eyes gleamed. "So this is hard for him? Maybe even painful?" Willow nodded, grinning at the unabashed glee on Xander's face. "Good."  
  
Willow felt Spike's eyes on her, but ignored him. She had no clue how he felt about her or this whole situation, since he was able to keep his thoughts to himself, but she pretty much figured he was hating every second of it.  
  
~It's not as bad as all that. Though, I'm certainly not enjoying myself. Yet.~  
  
Before Willow had time to contemplate that last bit, Spike moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck. It was a lover's touch, pure and simple, and it nearly sent Xander over the edge.  
  
"You son of a bitch," he yelled, prying Spike's arms away from Willow, while Willow tried to calm Xander down. Xander didn't want to be calmed though. He tore at Spike's hands with blind fury, which made Spike hold on tighter, while Willow held the two of them apart. Spike wouldn't let go of her, and she couldn't exactly force him to. Nor could she stop Xander from taking a swing at Spike. Too late, she realized that Xander's swing was wide and his fist was heading toward her.  
  
Spike's hand shot out, once again halting Xander's fist. Willow breathed a sigh of relief. "God, Xander, he's just trying to get a rise out of you. He's not at fault here anymore than I am. He didn't go up to the demon and say, 'Hey, bind me to that girl over there, it'll be fun!' So stop it, all right?"  
  
Xander nodded angrily. "Fine. But as soon as this is over, he's fair game."  
  
Spike snorted in amusement. "Like to see you try."  
  
"And you," Willow said, brushing Spike's arms off of her. "Leave Xander alone... remember the not taunting thing? That goes both ways."  
  
"Sure, whatever." He started dragging her away from the still fuming Xander. "Come on, let's go, I wanna go to bed."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes at her vampire companion. "You're a jerk, you know that? And your double standards are amazing."  
  
"So I've been told."  
  
"He's kidding, Xander," she called over her shoulder, allowing Spike to drag her away simply because she was too tired to continue to fight him.  
  
"No, I'm not," Spike taunted with a laugh. "Oh, calm down," he told Willow, "he deserved it. What right does he have to judge me? I am what I am, and I make no apologies."  
  
Willow looked at him askance. "Okay, Popeye. Did you ever think that maybe that's why he hates you so much? You want us to think you've changed, but you never stop threatening us, or taunting us, or treating us like dirt."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and quickened his pace. "I am not about to be dragged into a philosophical discussion with a teenager. Let's just not talk, all right? When the bond is over, we can go about our own lives, and forget this ever happened."  
  
  
  
"No bloody way," Spike ground out. "I am not about to sleep on the floor. You sleep on the floor." The witch actually expected him to sleep beside her bed like a dog? Not while he had a say in it.  
  
"No. This is my room. My bed. And I'm not sleeping with a vampire. It's a rule." She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "My rule. Rule number one in not getting killed: don't sleep with vampires."  
  
Spike snorted condescendingly. "Good rule. Smart, really. Don't worry, you're safe, I already ate." He patted the mattress beneath him and pushed against her leg, trying to get her to move so he could get more comfortable. "I'm not a dog, don't treat me like one. And bloody hell, will you move?"  
  
"No, I won't. And just because you're into domination, doesn't mean everyone else is. It isn't a power thing, it's a simple, 'I don't want to sleep with you, Spike' thing. No offense," she added.  
  
Spike took off his boots and duster, tossing them a few feet away. "Domination? What, just because I'm a vampire you think I like hurting people?" Pausing for a second, he amended his protest. "Well, okay, I do. But, I'm not into bondage and all that crap. That's Dru's and Angelus' bag, not mine."  
  
Willow was looking rather skeptical. "Sure, Spike, and as a Wiccan, I'm not into spells and stuff," she scoffed.  
  
Spike shrugged. "Believe what you want, Red, I could care less." He stood up, tossing his t-shirt on top of his duster. "Change your clothes or whatever now, 'cause once I lay down, I'm not getting back up."  
  
She looked ready to bolt. Her eyes darted from herself, to her dresser, to him, and back again. Half asleep already, Spike had little patience for Willow and her modesty, and had no intention of sleeping any way other than how he always did.  
  
"What are you doing?" Willow yelled when she heard his belt jingling. She turned to see him un-buttoning his jeans. She averted her eyes from him, looking like she wanted to jump up and run away, but she was trapped. "Leave your pants on! I'm not-- fine. I'll sleep on the floor." She grabbed his hand and tugged him to her dresser, pulled open a drawer, hardly paying attention to what she was doing, and grabbed a handful of clothes.  
  
Shorts and t-shirts fell all over the floor, but Willow didn't notice. She turned Spike around, and stood beside him so their arms were touching. Spike was having a hard time not laughing. She had three shirts, and two pairs of shorts piled at her feet, and a trail of them leading from the dresser. In her hands, she had a pair of jean shorts and a small blouse that looked like a bandana.  
  
She was staring at them in dismay, turning the jeans over and over in her hands. Spike bent down with a snicker and handed her a large t-shirt and a pair of elastic waisted shorts, taking the other clothes from her.  
  
"Thanks," she mumbled, quickly changing into the makeshift pajamas.  
  
Spike didn't look, though he was tempted. "Done?" he asked politely. She nodded. "Good, let's go to bed."  
  
"Um, wait."  
  
Thinking she was stalling, Spike growled in impatience. "What now?" Being a vampire, Spike had longer staying powers than humans, he also didn't need as much sleep as humans, but the magic he'd been hit with had sapped him, and he was dead on his feet, which is why he didn't care that he was scaring the girl he had to sleep with. ~Stupid, bloody humans!~ "Do you need a glass of warm milk?" he taunted.  
  
Willow sneered at him. "Fine, you want to wake up as a crispified vampire, I don't care." She shrugged, looking at the French doors, unconcerned.  
  
"Christ," Spike swore. Together they got some blankets out and hung them from the curtain rods across the top. Clothes pins secured them in place, and Spike just about collapsed right there when they were through.  
  
Willow looked tired herself. "Sleep now," she whispered, crawling under the covers, obviously forgetting that she was going to sleep on the floor.  
  
Spike turned off the bedside lamp, curled himself around the sleeping redhead and fell asleep.  
  
  
  
Willow woke up slowly, trying to figure out what had awakened her. She laid still, staring at the dark ceiling. There it was again. Oz was nuzzling her neck. Willow smiled to herself, stretching out languidly. Bare skin touched sheets, and Oz's skin. Her pajamas were no longer on her body, and she wondered just how he'd managed the task without waking her up.  
  
"Mmm," she moaned on a long drawn out sigh. "That feels good." She ran her hand down his naked back, holding him close. She loved this. Waking up in Oz's arms, feeling wanted, and loved. There was nothing else like it in the world.  
  
She let her eyes slide shut, and gave herself up to just feeling. His lips gently traced along her neck, jaw, and cheek, before settling on her mouth. She sucked in a breath at the contact, feeling a jolt of familiar electricity shoot through her. It seemed to be stronger tonight, but she didn't stop to wonder why. Her hands moved along his back, and her legs entwined with his, encouraging more contact. His hand caressed her stomach, and hips, his touch so soft and gentle, that she was being lulled back to sleep.  
  
It wasn't until she reached up to her lover's neck that she realized something was... off. Oz didn't wear necklaces, at least not to bed. And, now that she thought about it, he seemed to be a little taller than she remembered. And had he always been this cold?  
  
Realization dawned just as the vampire bit her neck and entered her. Willow screamed as pain shot through her neck, and into her head. She hit and kicked at the vampire above her. He stopped feeding, and held himself still. His fangs left her neck painfully, and she heard a muffled curse, then silence.  
  
She felt like she was suffocating. He wasn't moving, and she thought she'd throw up if he didn't get off of her.  
  
"Get off, get off, get off," she repeated over and over, pushing at his chest, and trying to crawl out from under him.  
  
He roughly grabbed her swinging arms and pinned them above her head. "Hold still," he ground out.  
  
More pain lanced through her head, seeming to ricochet around her brain, stopping just behind her eyes. Feeling even more miserable than before, she whispered, "Don't kill me."  
  
Another curse was followed by a sudden flurry of movement. Her hands were released, and her bedside lamp switched on. She had to close her eyes against the glare, but a few seconds later, she opened her eyes to find Spike above her, an equally surprised look on his face.  
  
Spike was the last person she'd expected to find. Truth be told, as soon as she realized it was a vampire, she'd expected it to be Angelus. Use her, abuse her, and toss her on Buffy's doorstep. That was Angelus' game, so it was with some surprise that she saw Spike, his hair disheveled, his eyes wide, his chest bare. On top of her. Inside of her.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" His eyes took in the room around him, his frown thunderous.  
  
Willow swallowed hard, not wanting to anger him. "I-- I was asleep. I assume you were too... I thought you were Oz."  
  
"Thanks a lot." He stared down at her, his eyes shifting from her face to her neck. "The bond. Right. God, I hate this blasted town, and if you don't stop moving, I'm gonna--" he cut himself off with a sigh.  
  
Willow's eyes widened. Was he going to kill her? "What?"  
  
"Bloody well finish what I started," he ground out.  
  
"Oh," was all Willow could say. She stopped pushing at him. Facing her currently blanket-covered French doors, she closed her eyes and waited for him to climb off of her.  
  
"Yeah, oh," he started to say, then shifted slightly.  
  
Thinking he was finally vacating her personal space, she was quite surprised when she felt his tongue on her neck, licking at the blood there. She resumed her struggles, pushing at his chest. "What are you doing?" she practically screamed.  
  
He growled at her. Actually growled. "I told you to hold still, not bare your bloody neck to me. Do you know how long it's been since I've had warm, human blood?" His voice had softened, almost reverently. He sounded like he was in heaven. And he hadn't stopped licking and sucking at her blood yet.  
  
"Two years?" she hazarded. "Um, could you stop? Please? 'Cause, it's kinda gross, and I don't want to die."  
  
He didn't stop, didn't even acknowledge her.  
  
"Spike?" She was getting scared again. His fangs were scraping against her neck, and she could feel the want and need he had to just sink his fangs into her and drain her dry. He was resisting, but she knew he was losing the battle. "Buffy won't be happy if you kill me."  
  
Instead of startling him into stopping, the mention of Buffy seemed to settle matters. He bit her, eagerly drawing her blood into his mouth, and slid his hands under her back, pressing her closer to him.  
  
Panicked now, Willow pulled her trapped hands free and clawed at his back. "Spike! Stop!" She felt a tingling down her own back, and arched against him, trying to ease the sudden burning there.  
  
Spike lifted his head, staring at her with yellow eyes, and demonic ridges. His fangs glistened with her blood. She shrank away from him, trying her best to disappear into the mattress. He licked his lips and smirked at her, obviously caught in the midst of bloodlust.  
  
~Oh, God, oh God, oh God,~ she repeated in her mind, knowing he was about to kill her. ~Just do it quick.~  
  
His smirk grew, and he pressed himself against her. "Quick? Now where would be the fun in that?" He pressed his mouth to hers, and forced his tongue between her lips.  
  
Willow, tasting her own blood, tried to pull away, but it only made him chuckle. "Spike, you don't want to do this. You don't want me. You want Buffy. Remember Buffy? You love Buffy."  
  
Spike sighed explosively. "Bloody hell, woman, I'm a vampire, not a bleedin' dog."  
  
"Well stop acting like a dog in heat and I'll stop talking to you like one," she shot back, her fear fading slowly when he kept his fangs to himself.  
  
"Watch it, girl, the chip's not giving me any pain, remember? I could easily kill you. Still might."  
  
Oh, and the fear was back, along with an added bonus of disgust. "No, that's okay. I don't need killing. I'm good. But, um, could you get off of me? You're heavy and I need to breathe occasionally."  
  
~Stupid chit wants me to get off of her? Not in this lifetime.~ "Can't."  
  
Willow frowned, hearing his inner monologue. "What do you mean you can't? What happened to not liking pain with your pleasure?"  
  
His eyebrows raised in surprise. "You're in pain?" When she nodded, he grinned at her. "I can fix that."  
  
She opened her mouth to protest, but what came out was a sigh when Spike kissed her. His lips were so soft and tender, so gentle that she couldn't help but enjoy the kiss. Spike kissage. Wow. She'd never imagined that being kissed by Spike could be so pleasurable. But it was. "And how," she whispered.  
  
Spike chuckled against her lips, sending a small shiver of desire through her. His hands, formerly at rest behind her back, were now caressing her stomach and breasts. His fingers were hard and calloused, his hands warm from touching her. He slid out and slowly thrust back into her, leaving her gasping.  
  
Her hands went from pushing at him, to holding him to her. Her tongue dueled with his, her hips arched to meet his, her legs wrapped around him. The pain was gone, and pleasure had taken over.  
  
As she was nearing orgasm, Spike pulled his mouth from hers, and bit into her neck again. This time, there wasn't any pain. Only pleasure. She tightened around him, biting her lip to keep from screaming his name. He followed almost immediately, whispering something against her neck.  
  
He rolled off of her and pulled her against him, his legs curling around hers, his arm around her stomach. Willow relaxed against him with a sigh, vowing to be angry later, when she could storm away from him.  
  
"Told ya," Spike chuckled.  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. "Gosh, I wonder why Buffy won't have anything to do with you with romantic talk like that."  
  
Spike stiffened and pulled away from her. "Yeah, let's do bring up Buffy as much as possible." He sat up, leaning against the wall, and resting an arm on his bent knee. "Hey, how's the blonde witch doing? Good?" He sneered at her, enjoying the guilt that flashed in her eyes.  
  
She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. Pulling away from Spike experimentally, she was overjoyed when she didn't fall into convulsions. Sliding out of bed, she wrapped the sheet around her and glared at him.  
  
"What's the matter? Buffy a touchy subject?" she asked innocently.  
  
Spike glared at her, not bothering to cover up his own nudity. "This isn't about Buffy. Has nothing to do with her."  
  
"Bzzt! I'm sorry, that's the wrong answer. The correct answer is; this has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Buffy." She grabbed her pajamas off the floor and sat down in her desk chair to put them on.  
  
"How do you figure that? She wasn't the one I just shagged. You were."  
  
He stood up, and Willow hastily averted her eyes, busying herself with trying to dress and hold up the sheet at the same time. While he was occupied with putting on his jeans, she slid her shirt over her head and stepped into her shorts. He turned back, buttoning his jeans, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.  
  
"Hey, not in here you don't. Go outside." She pushed him toward the French doors.  
  
He shrugged and went outside, sitting in one of the plastic chairs on the small stone patio. Willow joined him, choosing to lean against the wall with her arms folded over her chest.  
  
"Yeah, you just... uh, shagged me, but only physically. You were thinking about her."  
  
"And you weren't thinking about the witch?" He sat back, stretching out his legs, watching her as smoke curled lazily around his head.  
  
Willow laughed out loud at the idea. "Spike, um, I know you aren't exactly fond of Tara, but you do know she's a girl, right? And as a girl, she doesn't have a--" Willow's eyes fell to Spike's crotch, and her face started flaming. "Uh, you know. So, no, I wasn't thinking about her."  
  
Now it was Spike's turn to laugh. "How old are you again? And you can't even say the damn word? It's called a di--"  
  
"Penis!" Willow interrupted, her face flaming even more. She pushed away from the wall and went to stand at the edge of the patio, staring into the night. "God, Spike, do you always have to be so crude? Never mind," she told him, knowing without looking that he was about to answer with something crude. Just to spite her. Jerk. "Point is, Tara's a girl, you're a guy. She doesn't have a... penis. You do. So, I didn't once think about her."  
  
"And you happen to know I was thinking about Buffy how? Are you psychic all of a sudden?"  
  
She tossed him a look that just screamed, 'duh!' "Bonded, remember?" She heard one of the chairs scrape against the stones behind her.  
  
"And what's the big deal anyway?" he asked, ignoring her interjection. "It was just sex."  
  
She shrugged, inhaling the cool night air. "You said Buffy has nothing to do with this." She turned around, surprised to find him right behind her. She took a step back and rubbed her arms. "But she does. She's the reason it happened at all."  
  
Spike shook his head, disagreeing. "Not true."  
  
"Is too. You were dreaming about her when you, um... and I thought you were Oz--"  
  
Spike tossed his cigarette to the grass, and stepped forward menacingly, obviously offended. "Hey! Have I got an overabundance of hair? Don't think so. And I'm plenty taller than his, what? Four foot height?"  
  
She rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. "Well, duh, that's how I figured out that you weren't him. The height thing, not the hair thing, 'cause, hello, he's not wolfy all the time, and definitely never, ever when we--" She shuddered in disgust. "Forget it." Chilled in the cool air, and wearing a lack of clothing, she went back inside.  
  
Spike followed her through the doors, shutting them behind him. "And I wasn't dreaming about the Slayer."  
  
Willow sat on her bed, covering up. "Oh. Harmony then?"  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow at her. "In her dreams."  
  
Willow sighed in impatience. "Dru then. Whoever. The point is--"  
  
"Wasn't Dru either." He sighed regretfully. "Haven't dreamed about her in a long time."  
  
Running out of people that Spike might have been dreaming about, Willow chewed on her thumbnail. "Um, Angel?"  
  
Spike shot up out of his chair as if he'd sat on a stake. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" he growled, advancing on her.  
  
Willow pressed back against the wall, out of reach of the irate vampire. She hoped. "Um, sorry, Angelus then."  
  
Spike reached out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him. Nope, not out of reach. Pain lanced through her arm, reminding her how much she'd been manhandled tonight. An answering pain shot through her head, and she wondered at it, but forgot it as soon as she saw the fury on Spike's face.  
  
"What kind of sick fantasies have you got swimming around that head of yours?" he hissed, barely controlling himself.  
  
She could see how much he wanted to hurt her, but he didn't make a move against her. "N-- none. Um, you're a demon. Demons are pretty uncaring about who or even what they sleep with... aren't they?" she asked hesitantly, suddenly unsure of her logic.  
  
"We're immoral, is that it? We don't care if the person or demon is even alive, just as long as it has the right parts?" Spike shoved her away from him, and she fell to the bed with a bounce. "Is that what you all think?"  
  
"Well, yeah. I mean, yeah, you are immoral. Pretty much, the word describes you to a T. And I don't know what Buffy thinks. We've never talked about it." She rubbed her sore wrist, watching him curiously as he sat back down. "I just assumed... I mean, aren't vampires supposed to be close to their sires?"  
  
Spike grinned, smirking at her. "I was. Dru and I were together for over a hundred years... I'd call that a close relationship. Darla and Angelus were pretty close too."  
  
Willow sat up, frowning. "Dru? Drusilla's your sire? Wait. When did this happen? Angelus is your sire," she told him, realizing even as she said it that he would know better than her who his sire was. "So you and Angelus never...?"  
  
The smile left his face, replaced by a frown. "Never. And if you say it again, I'm going to have to kill you. I don't like being linked with that poofter. He may swing that way, but I don't. Dru, Harmony, Buffy... sensing a pattern here, Red? Oh, and--" he sucked in a dramatic breath, "you."  
  
Willow yawned and curled up under the covers again. "Yeah, well, I didn't really have a choice, now did I? And, um, could you sort of... not tell anyone. Not that you would. Especially Buffy, 'cause she'd probably kill you right then and there."  
  
Spike snapped his fingers in an 'aw shucks' fashion. "Oh, darn, there goes my plan to rush over to Buffy's house and tell her that I just shagged her best friend. And here I was, thinking she'd high five me and drag me to bed," he said dryly.  
  
"Okay, you're just abusing sarcasm now."  
  
Spike laughed at the disgruntled look on her face. "You expected differently, pet? I'm immoral, remember?"  
  
Willow shook her head tiredly. Exhaustion had settled over her once more. "Nope."  
  
She was drifting off to sleep just as Spike left the room. "Thanks for the shag, Witch."  
  
Spike went downstairs, and grabbed a bag of blood from the fridge. Draining it into a mug, he heated it in the microwave and sat at the table to drink it. He wasn't hungry, but he needed to do something to get the taste of Willow's blood out of his mouth and his mind. It was so rich and full of innocence and magic that he was tempted to kidnap her and tie her up somewhere, to feed off of her. She wasn't just a one time meal. She was someone to keep around for a long time.  
  
Plus there was that whole bond thing still happening.  
  
She hadn't realized it yet, but they were still bound. The pain from his implant hadn't hurt him since the Litchock demon attacked them. It was still there, and still working, but Willow was getting the pain.  
  
He could hurt humans again. Kill them. But would he? He wanted to... more than anything he wanted to walk out that door and become a hunter again. Stalk his prey like a good vampire should.  
  
So, why wasn't he?  
  
The answer was simple; Buffy, and Willow. If it weren't for the bond with Willow, he wouldn't care what she thought, but she was connected to him, and she would know. Then Buffy would too.  
  
Spike downed the last bit of blood in the mug, and headed back upstairs. The continuation of the bond was a mystery to him. It should have ended. Giles said physical contact was needed for the duration of the bond, but that had ended sometime earlier, and they were still bound. So far, he was getting the better part of the deal.  
  
Willow got the pain from his implant, and, he suspected, anything else that caused him pain. He'd seen her wince when she scraped her nails down his back. What did he get out of the bond?  
  
Knowing his luck, he'd get her emotions.  
  
He paused in her doorway, watching her as she slept. She was in the same position she'd been in when he left the room. One hand under her cheek, the other resting on top of the covers. She looked peaceful. Sweet. Tasty.  
  
Shaking his head, he stripped off his jeans and climbed back into bed with her. Why waste an opportunity? She was a good shag. He pulled her back against his chest, and brushed her hair off of her neck, inhaling her scent. 


	4. Bonded part 4

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.  
  
PART 4  
  
Willow leaned against the wall outside the Magic Box for a few seconds before heading inside. Giles had called her, wanting more information about the Litchock demon for his records. After a lengthy hot shower in which she'd scrubbed every drop of dried blood off of her, she dressed and headed over to the shop. Her thoughts had been blessedly her own since waking up. No sign of Spike in her head. The bond was gone.  
  
Blame was a living thing, and hers was crawling around inside of her, just beneath the surface, trying to find a way out. She couldn't let that happen. She would keep this to herself. Nobody need know that she'd had sex with Spike.  
  
Taking one last deep breath, Willow checked the square of white gauze on her neck, made sure her collar covered it, and went inside, ready to face everyone. To her surprise, the shop was empty aside from Giles and a lone customer. Giles was behind the counter ringing up a sale. She went up to the counter with a smile, hoping Giles wouldn't choose this moment to be super observant.  
  
"Hi, Giles. Where's everyone at?" She cast a look toward the training room. "Buffy back there?"  
  
Giles looked up from the cash register with a smile. "Uh, no, she and Dawn went grocery shopping." He handed the customer a bag. "Thank you, come again." Giles went around the counter as the customer left. "Today is Anya's day off, and she and Xander are... actually, I don't know where they are. Um, the bond? Since Spike's not with you, I assume it's ended?"  
  
"Yeah, early this morning sometime. So, what'd ya need?" She sat at the table and peered idly at a few of the books spread there. They looked pretty boring. Even for her.  
  
"Information. I couldn't find out anything more about the Litchock, so, I thought maybe you could answer a few questions." He sat down in the chair next to her, pencil and pad ready. "What made you and Spike decide to go after the demon when it ran?"  
  
"Um, I don't know about Spike, but I was doing a spell, and the demon ran before I could use it. You know how magic builds up and fills your entire being?" she asked excitedly.  
  
Giles shook his head, frowning at the excitement on her face. "Not personally, no. I've read about it, and seen it. You need to be very careful, willow."  
  
Willow waved her hand dismissively. "I know, I know. Anyway, I needed an outlet so I didn't end up killing Buffy or Xander accidentally. I figured I'd follow the demon, hit it with the magic and then Spike could kill the ugly thing."  
  
Giles was scribbling away in his notepad, gesturing for her to continue.  
  
"Spike found it first, and was just about to attack it when I found them. The demon saw me, and kind of looked at me and Spike and then it shot this black ball of magic. I tried to move out of the way, but... Spike apparently wanted to do his one heroic deed for the month that night, and shoved me the other way, and I ended up right back in the path of the magic."  
  
"Do you think he did it purposely?" Giles asked, looking up.  
  
Willow chuckled. "No. No, he was pushing me out of the way. My hero," she deadpanned.  
  
"Wait a minute. A black ball? Buffy never mentioned a black light. She said it was red. This could change everything. I'll have to..." He started to get up, but Willow stopped him.  
  
"Hold on. There was a red one too, but that was after the black one." She sighed, getting more comfortable. "See, the black one hit me in the stomach and went through Spike's hand, 'cause he was still touching me."  
  
Giles paused in his writing. "Did the magic travel through you into Spike? Or simply hit him as well?"  
  
"Traveled through me into Spike. Anyway, um, nothing happened. From the black ball, I mean. Then came the red one. It was huge, like three feet around, it lit up the whole area. The demon threw it at Spike, knocking him back. I went to check on Spike, and the magic went through me, same as the first one did through Spike. It hurt for a few seconds, then I blacked out."  
  
Giles finished writing and looked up at her. "That's it?"  
  
Willow nodded. "That's it," she confirmed.  
  
"And the mid conversation the two of you were having when you woke up on my couch?"  
  
She shrugged. "I woke up with a headache in some kind of... corridor, and ran into him. The bond was working, and then there was an exit. I went through it, pulling him with me, and that's when we woke up. End of story."  
  
Giles set his pad and pencil down with a nod. "And after you left my apartment? What happened then? Did the bond grow stronger, weaker, remain the same?"  
  
Willow thought about it for a minute. "Same, I think."  
  
"And Spike behaved himself last night?" He chuckled at his own question. "As much as a soulless vampire who can't hurt anyone can behave."  
  
Uh-oh. Lying time. "Yeah, just like that." Feeling a small tingling in her hand, she scratched at it. The tingling turned into a burning and she frowned down at her hand. It felt like it was on fire, and the burning was growing more and more intense. An equally painful jab shot briefly through her head, then faded away. "Giles? My hand... um, water, I need water. My hand's on fire. Giles!" She was screaming now, jumping up from her chair, and knocking it over.  
  
Giles grabbed her hand and looked down at it. There was nothing there. It was the normal unblemished skin she always had on her hand. Giles shrugged helplessly. "Willow, I don't see anything." He pulled her into the bathroom beside the training room and shoved her hand under the faucet, turning on the cold water.  
  
"Ow. It feels like it's on fire." Turning her hand around, she examined the tender skin. It felt hot, but was unmarred. "Feel that," she told him, holding up her hand.  
  
Giles lightly touched the skin on the back of her hand and pulled back quickly, obviously not expecting to feel such heat pouring off of her. "Good Lord. Does it still hurt?"  
  
Willow shook her head. "No, it's fading. Almost gone." She looked up at him, taking the towel he handed her. "What's going on?"  
  
"I don't know. It must have something to do with the Litchock demon, or the magic it used. Or the bond. We should get hold of Spike and see if he's felt anything similar."  
  
They left the bathroom, and nearly ran into Buffy.  Buffy raised an eyebrow at the sight of them leaving the bathroom together.  Her eyebrow raised even further when she saw Willow wiping her hand off with a towel.  
  
"Um, what's going on?" she asked, looking a bit nauseated.  
  
Giles sighed explosively.  "Good God, Buffy, not what you're thinking."  He walked away, muttering, "You've been hanging around Spike too much."  
  
Willow waited until he was behind the counter before making a disgusted face.  "Ew," she whispered.  "He's my mentor, my father-figure, and not my anything else.  You're really disgusting, you know that?"  
  
"I know."  Buffy nodded, laughing a little.  "I disgusted even myself.  I think Giles is right.  I've been hanging around Spike too much."  She frowned a little and shook her head.  "I need to not do that, I think."  
  
Willow kept her mouth shut on how much she'd been hanging around Spike lately, and sat down, randomly grabbing a book.  "Gonna research with us?"  
  
Buffy shook her head with a laugh.  "Nope.  I just stopped by to drop off the coffee Giles asked me to get.  And I did.  And so, I'm gone.  Bye."  
  
Giles waved absently, already absorbed in his books again.  "Mm-hmm."  
  
Buffy left, leaving Willow to her thoughts.  
  
Foremost among them, was Spike. When she woke up that afternoon, he had been asleep beside her, and though she'd been surprised to find him there, she hadn't woken him up. Why had he climbed back into bed with her after she fell asleep? He'd already gotten... well, okay, he hadn't been there purposely for sex, but he'd gotten it anyway. And the bond was broken.  
  
So why had he stayed?  
  
And not just in her house, but her bed. That's when it hit her. Oh, my God, I not only slept with Spike, I had sex with Spike. Willingly. And she wasn't sorry about it either. She had expected to feel extreme guilt and shame, but she didn't.  
  
Was Spike sorry?  
  
She shook her head. It didn't matter. She wasn't sorry, and if he was... oh well.  
  
Spike was a vampire. He hurt people for a living. It was his whole life. Killing, feeding, torturing, maiming, murdering. What was a little meaningless sex thrown in? Not much, to a vampire.  
  
The burning sensation in her hand had dissipated, leaving only a slight tingling feeling. She stared down at it, wondering what had happened.  
  
A sharp pain in her chest sent her to her feet, and she stared down at her white blouse, expecting to see blood seeping through, but there wasn't any.  
  
What the heck was going on? First her hand caught on fire, without the actual catching on fire part, then her chest starts bleeding, only without the actual bleeding part. What was happening to her?  
  
Sudden pain in her stomach forced her to her knees, and she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. Tears slid down her cheeks, and a sob escaped her. She'd never felt pain like this. Never.  
  
"Oh, God," she whispered, barely noticing Giles calling her name. She gasped desperately for air, but couldn't seem to find any. "I can't breathe." She gulped in huge amounts of air, but still felt like she was suffocating. And the pain. Oh, God, the pain was so immense that her vision was blacking out. Small dark circles flashed in front of her eyes.  
  
Giles laid Willow on the floor and looked her over, expecting to see a wound of some kind, but he couldn't find anything. She was unconscious now, her breathing had returned to normal, and she seemed to be coming out of... whatever had happened to her.  
  
She stirred slightly, drawing in a breath. Her eyes fluttered open. She grabbed her stomach and curled into a ball, rolling onto her side with a moan. "It hurts so much," she whispered.  
  
Giles gently pried her hands away from her stomach and lifted her shirt. He sucked in a breath at the mottled bruising there. Her whole abdomen was covered in black, blue, green and yellow bruises. When he lightly pressed his fingers to the flesh, she screamed and shoved his hands away.  
  
"Spike!" She sat up, knowing somehow that Spike was in trouble. A voice, something, was whispering in the back of her mind, telling her to get to him.  
  
Giles tried to hold her down, but she shoved him away. "Willow, calm down. What is it? Spike--"  
  
"Is hurt... at my house. That's where I left him." She was looking around her, wincing every time she moved. "Keys?" she asked, waiting for Giles to catch on. When he didn't, she grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the front door of the shop. "Car keys. I need to get over there. Nobody knew he was there. Why would someone hurt him at my house?" Her eyes widened. "Buffy?"  
  
Giles allowed her to pull him out of the shop, but made sure he stopped to lock the door before leaving. "How do you know Spike is hurt?" he asked, trying to calm her down as he hurried her to his car in front of the shop.  
  
She shook her head, near tears again. "I just do. I think the bond is still working. I thought it ended, but now it's like..." she struggled for words. "I can't explain it. I just know that he's hurt, and there's so much pain," she whispered. 


	5. Bonded part 5

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.  
  
PART 5  
  
Willow was staring straight ahead, willing the car to go faster. The pain in her stomach had lessened by a fraction, but she was trying to ignore it. "Giles hurry."  
  
"Um, not to say that your concern isn't warranted, but, why are you so worried about Spike... aside from the obvious bond issues, of course?"  
  
Willow didn't know how to answer that. She didn't care for Spike... did she? Not wanting to look too deeply into her reasoning, she said the first thing that came to mind. "It's just the bond. What if he dies while I'm still bound to him?" she asked. That wasn't the answer, and she knew it. She would be upset if Spike died. Would mourn him. When had that happened? In the two years he'd been helping them, she'd gotten to know him... and like him. Just a bit.  
  
Giles pressed harder on the gas pedal at her words, and came to a screeching halt in front of her house a few minutes later. They both jumped out of the car, racing up to the door. Willow had to take the time to unlock it, while Giles pounded on it, and rang the doorbell.  
  
She got it open and ran inside, bumping into a surprised Spike. The two of them went crashing to the floor, landing in a heap at Giles' feet.  
  
Willow winced in pain and rolled off of Spike, kneeling for a few seconds, trying to catch her breath. She saw blood on her hands and turned wide, frightened eyes toward Spike. He was lying on the floor, holding his stomach with one arm, his eyes closed.  
  
"Spike?" She grabbed his arm, and shook him.  
  
Giles leaned down and helped Willow up. "He's unconscious. Do you have some extra blood in the house?"  
  
"I don't know." She started toward the kitchen to check, but Giles stopped her with a calm hand on her arm.  
  
"Wait. Help me move him to the couch first. Are you all right?"  
  
She nodded, and grabbed Spike's right arm. Giles grabbed his other arm, and they lifted him up, dragging him into the living room. They set him down in front of the couch, both of them panting and sweating. After a few minutes of struggling, and weird balancing acts, they finally got him onto the couch. Willow ran to see if there was any extra blood in the fridge. There wasn't.  
  
When she got back to the living room, Giles was lightly tapping Spike's face. Willow had the feeling that he wanted to hit Spike harder, but was afraid of hurting her.  
  
"There's no blood in the kitchen. I can go to Willy's--"  
  
Giles stood up, taking out his car keys. "I'll go. Will you be all right on your own?" He paused at the door, waiting.  
  
Willow smiled at the older man. "I'm fine. Go." He didn't move right away. "Giles, go. He needs to eat."  
  
Giles nodded and left.  
  
Willow went upstairs to get the first aid kit and a wash cloth from the pantry, and then headed back downstairs. In the kitchen, she grabbed a large bowl and filled it with water, carrying it carefully to the living room. She knelt down beside the couch and set the bowl of warm water in front of her. Dropping the cloth in the bowl, she opened the first aid kit, taking out the gauze and tape she'd used on herself earlier.  
  
Taking a steadying breath, Willow slid her hands under the edges of his black t-shirt. The shirt was covered in blood, making it stick to his stomach and the wound underneath. She hesitated to pull it away, thinking it would cause him more pain, but then she realized that she had to do it. So she slowly pulled it up, exposing the wound underneath. A few twinges of dull pain itched along her own abdomen as she lifted it.  
  
She drew in a breath and let it hiss out between her teeth. "Oh, yuck," she whispered to herself. "I don't do well with icky bloody things." Nevertheless, she exposed the rest of his stomach and sat back on her heels, examining the stake induced hole in the vampire's abdomen.  
  
Wringing out the wash cloth, she set to work cleaning the area surrounding the actual wound. Spike didn't move once during her ministrations, which made her worry that maybe he was losing too much blood at once. Vampires could die of blood loss too, couldn't they?  
  
Maybe he wasn't feeling any pain due to the simple fact that she seemed to be getting most of his pain for him. Her stomach was sore, and felt rubbed raw, but it was distant this time, not as painful as it had been at the Magic Box.  
  
The wound was clean and she was pressing the last piece of tape to his flesh, when she felt him wake up.  
  
"It's about time. I thought you were gonna sleep all day." She sighed and looked up at him.  
  
His normally pale face was almost translucent, his cheeks, always pronounced, were now sunken in, giving him a shadowed and sickly look. "You look terrible."  
  
He laughed a bit, but stopped and winced in pain. Holding his stomach, he sat up carefully, watching her clean up the mess of bloody water, and gauze. "Thanks. You're not looking so terrific yourself, you know?" He ran a finger down her cheek. "All those tears for me, love?"  
  
Willow snorted. Now that she was here with him, where she could see him, and help if need be, she felt remarkably better. "Arrogant, aren't you? No. Those were from... something else." He didn't need to know about the particulars of the bond right then and there, did he? Giving him something to use against her, or Buffy, probably wasn't a good idea.  
  
She took the bowl into the kitchen, aware that Spike was following her. She set it in the sink and washed her hands, avoiding the questions she knew he was going to ask. Turning around to face him, she jumped nearly a foot when she found him right behind her.  
  
She rolled her eyes and side-stepped him. "Would you stop doing that?" she complained, sitting at the kitchen table. "Who staked you? Anyone I know?"  
  
Spike joined her at the table, sitting down on the chair across from her. "Xander." He chuckled humorlessly. "Guess he had some issues to deal with."  
  
"What?" Willow exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "Xander staked you? Is he stupid?" Spike opened his mouth to answer and she shot him a look. "Don't answer that. He's not stupid, he's just... he seems to have a problem with vampires. Can't get past that whole maiming and killing thing."  
  
"Yeah," Spike said, sounding distracted, "some people just came seem to get past that."  
  
Silence fell between them, each one caught up in their own thoughts. Giles came into the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a brown paper bag. He unceremoniously plopped it down in front of Spike.  
  
"Thanks," Spike mumbled, rising to heat up some of the blood.  
  
Giles sat down. "Are you all right now, Willow?" He stopped and frowned when she put a finger to her lips, and shook her head frantically. "Um...?" Completely at a loss, he looked from Willow to Spike, who was leaning against the counter, looking curious.  
  
Willow eyed the blonde vampire. Still curious. Damn. She really didn't want Spike to know the full extent of the bond. If he knew about it at all, Xander would most likely be dead right now... who's to say he wasn't? She spun around, staring at Spike, who simply stared back.  
  
"Where's Xander?" she asked sociably.  
  
Spike grinned and rolled his eyes, managing to look irritated and amused at the same time. "He left. Probably at Buffy's as we speak trying to convince her to let him kill me." His eyes darkened, and she knew he was thinking about how much he depended on them for his own survival. Being an independent creature, it wasn't something that sat well with him.  
  
"Oh. Probably, yeah." She looked down at her hands, unable to look at him anymore without wanting to blurt out that he was sort of free now. Free to hunt and kill her kind. Oy. Bad idea.  
  
Giles shook his head in confusion. "What does Xander have to do with this? And Willow, I'd appreciate it if you let me look at your stomach just to make sure you're all right."  
  
"What's wrong with her stomach?" Spike asked Giles, downing a mug of blood before heating up another one.  
  
Willow sighed and turned to Giles, answering his first question. "Xander was the one that staked Spike. I don't know why," she said, forestalling his questions.  
  
Spike was sipping his second mug of blood slowly. "And your stomach?" He was watching her over the mug as he drank and she had the distinct feeling that he already knew, and was just waiting for her to say it first.  
  
She shrugged and stood up. "Pain's mostly gone." She lifted her shirt a bit, showing Spike and Giles the fading bruises. Only they weren't fading. She frowned, looking down at the mottled skin that completely covered her abdomen.  
  
"Good Lord, Willow," Giles said with a wince. "It's worse than before. And the pain is almost gone?"  
  
Willow nodded, still staring down at her unrecognizable tummy. "Uh-huh. By the looks of this, I should be in some major pain." She looked up when Spike came up beside her. "Do you hurt a lot?"  
  
Spike shook his head. "No. I have a higher tolerance than you do." His hand pressed lightly into her flesh. She hissed in pain and jerked away from him. "Also, that wasn't caused by me getting staked. That's something else altogether."  
  
Willow sat down, lowering her shirt. "Is too. I felt it. It was like... something incredibly sharp was being shoved into my stomach. And I knew you were hurt." She pointed to his hand, which was unmarked. "You burned your hand, and something happened to your chest. Here," she settled her hand over her own chest. "Just above your heart. Um..."  
  
She stood up and turned around, looking down her shirt. Turning back to face them, she lowered the lapel of her shirt just a tiny bit, enough for them to see the bruise there.  
  
Spike sat down across from her again. "Yeah, I burned my hand closing the bloody curtains over the humongous window out there." He hooked a thumb behind him, indicating the living room. "Wasn't a bad burn though. Had worse."  
  
"What happened with Xander? Why did he stake you?" Giles asked the vampire. His voice was almost accusatory, and Willow had to stop herself from griping at him for it.  
  
Spike shrugged, grinning. "He's a bloody moron, what more reason does he need?" Both Willow and Giles glared at him, and he rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "All right, all right. He came here looking for Willow, and didn't like seeing me here."  
  
Willow waited for more, but that was all he offered. "That's it? He didn't like finding you here, so he staked you? Why do I get the feeling there's more?"  
  
"He didn't like the way I was dressed either." He grinned at Willow and winked. "I think he was defending your honor, or something equally as heroic as that."  
  
Willow fell silent, hoping against hope that Spike took a hint better than Giles did, and kept quiet about their adventure last night. Her hopes were dashed when Giles' eyes widened, looking from her to Spike, then back again.  
  
"And how exactly were you dressed?" he asked the vampire.  
  
Spike shrugged, letting his eyes roam over Willow. "Who says I was dressed?"  
  
Willow put a hand on Giles' arm, keeping him from jumping up and, by the looks of him, pounding Spike's face into a pulp. "Giles, nothing happened. When will you and Xander learn? He's taunting you."  
  
Giles calmed considerably, but felt the need to threaten Spike anyway. "Understand this, Spike, normally I don't get involved in who the kids choose to be with, but if you even attempt to use this bond to get near Willow or Buffy, I'll kill you."  
  
Willow was watching Spike, noting how tense his jaw was, how narrow his eyes became, and how much her palms were hurting. Raising her hands, she stared down at them. Little half moons of blood dotted the flesh of both palms.  
  
"Giles, enough," she warned him, showing him her hands. "You hurt him, it hurts me... doesn't that kind of make it a moot point? Besides, he didn't kill Xander."  
  
"Of course not. The implant--"  
  
"Gives me his pain. He knew that when Xander came here... didn't you?" She looked toward Spike, who was rubbing a thumb across his palm.  
  
"Yeah, so?" he asked impatiently. "Doesn't mean anything."  
  
"I was there... sort of. I felt the implant go off. I also felt it stop. You could've killed him, but you didn't."  
  
He stopped rubbing his hand long enough to glare at them. "Again... so? Didn't have anything to do with you. Or Buffy."  
  
"Okay. Point being, you can't do it, and you know it. You kill one of us, it'll probably kill me, which might just kill you. Period. So you can't hurt us." She was as much telling Spike as she was explaining it to Giles.  
  
"Right. Exactly. Thanks for the info." Spike stood up and left the room. She heard him go upstairs, and wondered if he'd gone to her room.  
  
"Giles, we're safe. Tell Xander, and, um... could you keep this from Buffy for as long as possible? She has a lot going on right now, what with being newly alive and all. She doesn't need this to worry about too."  
  
Giles considered her request for a few minutes, then nodded. "All right. I'll tell Xander and Anya what's going on and try to get them to keep quiet about it. And yes, I'll tell Xander to stop staking Spike, but once he finds out that you're still linked, he'll back off on his own." He stood up with a sigh and headed out of the kitchen with Willow right behind him. "I'll take Spike with me. Shall I get him, or do you want to?"  
  
Willow wondered how best to tell him what she was about to tell him. She knew he was going to try to talk her out of it... maybe even physically drag Spike out with him. She wasn't sure what he'd do, but she was sure it wasn't going to be pleasant. Like the rest of the day has been, she thought dryly.  
  
"My parents are going to be gone the entire summer. And with the bond being... unpredictable, I thought it might be best if he stayed here. Besides-- protection. Um, against... ooo! Humans too now. Okay, not a great thing, but he can make sure burglars, or... other evil people don't end up killing me in the middle of the night." Willow smiled weakly, knowing how pathetic her argument had sounded.  
  
To her surprise, Giles laughed. "I actually agree with you. For now. When we find out more about this blasted bond, I might change my mind, but by then... who knows?" He tossed a glare up the stairs and patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Good night, Willow."  
  
Willow smiled and walked him to the door. "Night, Giles, and thanks."  
  
She locked the door behind him and was about to turn off the downstairs lights when she saw the big bloody stain on the tile floor. With a groan, she headed back to the kitchen, turning the water on to let it heat up. Mop, bucket and cleaner were all pulled out of the small closet by the back door and readied.  
  
After cleaning the floor and her hands, she headed up to her room. Was Spike up there? Or had he left? Pushing open her bedroom door, she was a little disappointed to find it empty. And why is that? she asked herself. He's a nuisance of a vampire. A jerk. Oh, and evil, let's not forget evil.  
  
He didn't kill Xander when he very easily could have.  
  
No, but he practically forced himself on you last night. Seduced you. Didn't give you a chance to say no. Yeah, right. That was a laugh. She had plenty of time to say no, but didn't. She'd been enjoying herself, enjoying him, and the attention he paid her. Even Tara didn't make her feel like that.  
  
Tara!  
  
She hadn't talked to her in two days. Tara was probably worried sick. Willow sat in her desk chair and dialed her girlfriend's number.  
  
Tara picked up on the fourth ring. "Hello?"  
  
Willow smiled. "Hi, it's me. I'm sorry I didn't call you last night like I promised."  
  
"That's okay." Willow could hear the smile in Tara's voice, that sweet, tender smile she had, that turned up the corners of her mouth, lighting up her whole face. "Did something happen during patrol?"  
  
Willow chuckled ruefully. "Yup, and it's a doozy. Um, see... we were patrolling, and this demon came from out of nowhere, attacking us with magic. And Spike-- do you know what a bond is?"  
  
"Yeah. Oh, Spike didn't get bound to Buffy did he?" Tara asked, sounding worried all of a sudden.  
  
"Um, no," Willow answered, stalling for time.  
  
She could hear Tara's relieved sigh across the phone line. "Oh, good. 'Cause bonds are dangerous. Especially when one of the bound is a vampire. So, what happened then?"  
  
"Uh, the demon, a Litchock demon by the way, took off running, and Spike went after it." She paused, and took a deep breath. "And I was doing this spell, to knock it away from Buffy and Xander? And it ran before I could use the spell. So, I went after it."  
  
"No," Tara whispered.  
  
Willow nodded, even though Tara couldn't see her. She was close to tears, knowing she was about to drop a huge bombshell on Tara and not being able to reassure her about it. Any of it.  
  
"Yeah. I didn't mean it to happen, Tara, it just did, and I figured it would go away, and I wouldn't have to tell you until afterwards. It went away, but it came back again... stronger than before."  
  
She could hear Tara's breathing speed up, until she was almost hyperventilating. "You slept with him?" she asked, accusation and hurt pouring through the four little words. "I can't believe you slept with him," she whispered. "I-- I... um, I have to go... I can't-- I'll call you tomorrow..."  
  
Tara hung up the phone and Willow calmly hung up her end as well. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she swiped at them, trying so hard not to cry, and failing miserably.  
  
She went into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, needing to wash away the pain and the hurt she felt. The betrayal she'd heaped on Tara. The loss she already felt at losing her lover. She turned the water up as hot as she could stand it and undressed. Standing under the spray of steamy water, she felt a little better. She washed away the stress of the day, and dried off quickly. Not bothering to dress or comb her hair, Willow slid naked under the covers and curled up, crying herself to sleep.  
  
  
  
Spike pushed open the French doors to Willow's room, and went inside, just beating the sun. He dropped his bag of clothes by the door, and checked to make sure the blanket covered the window completely. Undressing, he wondered why he'd come back.  
  
She probably didn't even want him here. He was pretty amazed that Giles had left her here alone. But he had, there was only the single heartbeat in the house, and the smell of Willow. A clean, and freshly showered Willow. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of her. Not her blood this time, no, just the pure smell of Willow. It was nice. Not overwhelming like other women got sometimes with their excesses of perfume and lotion and all that other crap they slathered on. No, this was all Willow.  
  
She didn't wear perfume, he knew. Buffy did. She wore just the tiniest hint of Jasmine. Not an unpleasant smell, but it was forever there. Permeating his senses, stirring longings in him. Desire for her. Even when she wasn't around. Every time he smelled Jasmine, he turned, expecting to see her there, but it wasn't always her. Not so with Willow. He always knew when she was around. She was the only woman with that particular scent. It belonged to her, she owned it. It was a nice smell.  
  
Naked, Spike climbed into bed beside Willow, spooning her lightly, not wanting to wake her up and have her kick him out. But almost as soon as he touched her, she rolled over and pressed herself against him. Every inch of her. Another familiar smell assaulted him. He leaned back a bit, tipping her face up to his. She'd been crying. He pressed her head against his chest again, and kissed her hair.  
  
Damn she smelled good. 


	6. Bonded part 6

Disclaimer: I own the plot. I own, the dialogue, and really that's about it. The characters and the world they belong to are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and all those others.  
  
Rating: R.  
Summary: While fighting a demon Willow and Spike become bound together. W/S pairing.  
A/N: This takes place after season 5. It's during the summer, a bit AU. Nothing is season 6 happened, or will probably. Buffy was brought back in an unknown way.  
  
Feedback: No, I can't stand the stuff. (That'd be sarcasm, ppl)  
Dedication: To Claudia, the best beta ever. Praise her, ppl, she's the reason this stuff is getting done so quickly, and why it's so polished and makes sense.  
  
  
  
PART 6  
  
Willow woke up, stretching languidly. Her whole body felt stiff and sore, but she didn't know why. What she did know was that the body beside her wasn't Tara, it was Spike. There was no mistaking it this time. Spike was once again in bed with her. Why? Three times in two days he'd slept beside her, two of those times he hadn't needed to. What was going on in that mind of his?  
  
She tried to extricate herself from his hold, but they were so tangled together she couldn't move without waking him up, and she didn't want to do that. She was laying on her stomach, Spike was on her right, laying on his side. His left leg was between hers, with one of her legs curled around his. His arm was draped across her lower back, his hand resting on her hip.  
  
His other hand was under her, cupping one of her breasts. She moved a bit, slightly uncomfortable at the thought of Spike's hand on her breast. As soon as she did, his thumb brushed over her nipple. The traitorous flesh hardened, and electricity shot through her, warming her. Her stomach tightened with the familiar feeling of desire, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.  
  
That is the last time I sleep naked, she thought.  
  
Of course, it was all Spike's fault. If he'd keep his hands to himself, she wouldn't be desperate to get away from the vampire before she did something she'd regret. He was naked too, but her hands weren't all over him... oh, wait. Well, how did that get there?  
  
Her right hand was on his lower abdomen, extreme lower abdomen. Her fingers brushing against his... um, she'd just move that right now. She slid her hand away, touching the gauze covering his wound, making him groan. She sucked in a breath and held still. When he didn't wake up, she moved her hand again, successfully getting it away from... parts of him.  
  
Sighing in relief, she was extremely surprised when she felt his mouth on her neck, sucking at the flesh there. Not biting, not hurting, just... sucking. His tongue flicked against her skin, making her feel wonderful things... things that she shouldn't be feeling. Not with Spike. And who knew Spike could induce such... warm, tingly feelings in her?  
  
Buffy didn't know what she was missing. Buffy! Oh, boy, Buffy would not be happy when she found about this. Not happy at all. And Tara. She was once again betraying Tara.  
  
It's just a hickey, her mind cajoled. Spike was giving her a hickey, that was something to be thought about later, right now she needed to focus on the feelings and... no. She needed to stop him from causing those feelings. Stop him. Wake him up. Move. Do something other than lay there enjoying it. Don't press into his mouth, don't arch into his hand against your breast, and don't think about what that hand on your back could be doing if it weren't just draped over you.  
  
But most of all, don't touch him. Stop holding his head to your neck, stop sliding your hand down his back and over his hip, making him moan. Stop--  
  
Her hand touched gauze and she jerked back, falling off the bed and landing on her butt. "Ow," she moaned, glaring at the bed. "Stupid vampire."  
  
Loud laughter sounded above her, and Spike peered over the edge of the bed, a grin tilting up the corners of his mouth. "Falling for me, pet?"  
  
Willow rolled her eyes and slapped at his arm. "How long have you been awake?" she asked him, pulling on the top blanket, which was partially underneath him. He lifted up slightly, and the blanket was freed. She wrapped it around herself and stood up.  
  
His grin widened. "Long enough to wonder just where your hand was headed."  
  
Willow knew her face was going through a rainbow of reds, but she hoped he couldn't see her in the darkened room. Not as dark as she'd prefer, since it was daytime and sunlight was showing around the edges of the blanket-covered window. Still, maybe he couldn't--  
  
"Oh, look at that... turning all kinds of shades of red."  
  
Willow sat primly on her desk chair. "You were the one who was wrapped around me. I was simply trying to get free."  
  
Spike sat up, naked as a jaybird, sucking in a pain-filled breath. "Likely story, Witch."  
  
Willow sighed, and grabbed some clothes from her drawer, dressing quickly with her back to him. As soon as she was through, she tossed the blanket back on the bed and turned on the light. "Lay down, and I'll get the first aid kit and some blood."  
  
He did so, crossing his arms behind his head. "Don't have to tell me twice."  
  
She paused in the doorway. "Um, could you maybe put some pants on or something? Otherwise you're on your own."  
  
Spike grabbed the edge of the blanket and dropped it in his lap as she left. Modesty at this late date? She'd had a boyfriend who was a werewolf, a girlfriend who was a fellow witch. She'd cheated on both, slept with a vampire, had her hand in naughty places, and had dabbled in dark magic. Yet, through all that, her innocence had remained intact. It was almost unbelievable. If he didn't know her personally, he wouldn't believe it.  
  
But he did know her personally. Very personally. If he wasn't in such bad shape from the hole in his stomach, he'd be trying to know her personally right now. But, as it was, he could hardly move without pain lancing through him.  
  
She came back into the room, and handed him a glass of blood. He pushed himself into a partial sitting position, sipping at it while she went about setting out the gauze and tape and other stuff. One of her small hands worked on getting the old tape off. After a minute of watching her wince, and feeling her nails scrape his skin, he reached down and ripped it off.  
  
She yelped in sympathy or something, and he had to laugh.  
  
"Ow," she said with a wince.  
  
He rolled his eyes. "I told you I've got a higher tolerance for pain, Willow."  
  
"Yeah, but I still hurt like a human, thank you very much." She rubbed her own stomach with a glare at him, sitting back on her heels. "Besides, this still needs to be cleaned, just because you're a vampire doesn't mean you're immune to infections and diseases."  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
She rolled her eyes at herself and sighed. "Well, okay, it does mean that, but... well, maybe I should just leave it then? Or... or I could just slap a piece of gauze over it and hope the blood sticks to it enough to hold it there. I was trying not to hurt you any worse than you already are."  
  
What the hell was her problem? He downed the rest of his blood and sat up. "I'll get it myself. You're free to... annoy someone else." He stood up, letting the blanket fall and grabbed the first aid kit, heading into the bathroom. He needed a shower anyway. He made it to the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it. Damn, why was he so weak all of a sudden? He hated this. Hated having to depend on others. Especially weaker, mortal others.  
  
It had to be a side effect of the bond. If that was all he got, he'd be getting off lucky.  
  
He turned on the shower and stood under the spray, letting the water run over him. He could hunt now... so why wasn't he? The big hole in his stomach was an immediate deterrent, but what about after that? He could feed off of anyone he wanted to now. Anyone. As long as he didn't cause too much pain, alerting Willow, who would then alert Buffy.  
  
Heck, if he could get close enough, he could even snack on Buffy. But Buffy would never let him close enough. She didn't like him. Used him to protect her sister and precious friends, but wouldn't let him touch her, or kiss her... definitely not let him taste her. He slammed a hand against the flowered tiles. Stupid bitch.  
  
Why did it have to be her? Why not Willow? He was positive he could have seduced her. Hell, he had seduced her, last night. He could probably even get her to fall in love with him.  
  
Wouldn't be that hard, he thought. He knew he was good looking. It wasn't conceit, just simple fact. Not like he could take credit for his physical appearance, he had genetics to thank for that.  
  
And wouldn't that show Buffy? Get her best friend, her smartest, most sensible friend to fall in love with him. She'd be forced to reassess her opinion of him. To figure out if maybe there might be more to the vampire than she thought.  
  
Then he'd make her beg a bit, maybe use her, and treat her like crap same as she did him now. Yeah, that was definitely a plan.  
  
Shutting off the water, he dried off and bandaged his stomach.  
  
How to go about it though? Play the Big Bad and appeal to the rebel in her? Nah. He doubted there was any of the rebel in Willow. Not enough to reach anyhow. Play the friend, while slowly seducing her? No, that would most likely just backfire, reminding her of Xander's obtuseness. The sensitive routine was too... distasteful. Well hell, he was running out of choices. What was he supposed to do? Be himself?  
  
He chuckled at that. Uh-huh. That would do it all right. She'd just fall at his feet when she saw how-- hold on. There was a thought. Be himself... hmm. Worked with Dru. Of course he'd had the advantage of her being insane. And his sire.  
  
It worked with Harmony, that stupid bint. A shudder went through him. What in hell had he been thinking when he shacked up with her? Truth be told, he hadn't been thinking... his body had. She was a good lay. That was about it.  
  
So, would it be so hard to get Willow to fall for him just by being himself? It was possible, and if not, he could always resort to play acting.  
  
Decision made, Spike wrapped a towel around his waist and headed into her bedroom. Her empty bedroom. Damn, where'd she go? Listening for her heartbeat, he realized that she'd left.  
  
Now he was pissed.  
  
  
  
Tara watched Willow fidget nervously on the couch. She wanted to go to her, hold her, comfort her, but that wasn't an option now. They were breaking up. Willow was leaving her.  
  
"... just woke up," Willow was saying.  
  
Tara forced herself to focus on Willow's words instead of the loss and regret that was seeping into her heart, but it was hard.  
  
"I didn't know, I'm so sorry, Tara. It doesn't mean anything." She leaned forward, pleading with Tara. "We can get past this... I still love you. You-- you still love me, right?"  
  
She looked so small and alone, so wounded, that Tara nearly broke down and went to her. Nearly took her in her arms, and held her close, vowing never to let go. But if she did that, she would only make things harder on her lover. The bond between Willow and Spike was complete, permanent. Nothing she or anyone else did would matter.  
  
So, did she still love Willow? Tara wanted to deny it, make it easier on her, but she couldn't. "Yes. I still love you. I want things to be right again, b-- but, they won't be."  
  
"But, Spike is... nothing. Not even someone I have any type of feelings for whatsoever. He-- he's a vampire. A demon. I--"  
  
"Am bound to him now. And probably forever." Tara forced a smile to her lips, praying it didn't look too strained. "Vampires are jealous by nature. Possessive. Here," she said, jumping up and grabbing a book off the table in front of Willow. She debated quickly on whether she should sit beside her or not, and finally decided she would. "I was doing some research last night... after you called."  
  
Willow looked away from her, and Tara saw the guilt flash across her face. And a hickey on her neck. Tamping down the hurt, and her imagination, she turned to the page on bonds.  
  
"It says that bonds are usually temporary, which I already knew. But, that they can become permanent if the two individuals, um, well, they use a lot of big words, and stuff to say have sex. And you did." Now it was her turn to look away. It hurt her more than she wanted to admit that Willow had cheated on her. Even if it wasn't completely her fault.  
  
Willow put her hand on Tara's knee, but withdrew it when Tara flinched slightly. "Well, that doesn't mean anything, really. Just that we're connected somehow. And it's just me, I think. I-- I feel his pain. And that's really all." She looked into Tara's eyes desperately. "Please don't leave me," she whispered.  
  
Tara closed the book and stood up. "I'm not leaving you. You left me when you slept with... him." If Willow didn't leave soon, Tara was going to beg her to stay. She had to keep reminding herself that it would be a bad idea. "I don't blame you. He's h-- handsome."  
  
Willow frowned and shook her head. "No, he's not. I mean, yeah, he's that, but that's not what happened. I didn't realize who he was," she stressed. Standing up, she slowly moved toward Tara. "I was still half asleep, and he was too... Tara, I love you. I want to be with you, not Spike."  
  
Tara shook her head and backed away. "Willow, you don't understand. The bond--"  
  
"No," Willow shouted, sobbing now. "You don't get it. The bond is a small, minuscule thing. Barely even there. I want you. I lost Xander, and Oz, and then I almost lost you to Glory, please, Tara, please... just give it a chance."  
  
Tara hardened her heart. "No. It won't work. Here, take the book with you and read it. Then you'll know why. Please," she whispered, crying herself now. "Just go."  
  
Willow took the book from Tara and dropped it to the floor, pulling Tara into her arms. She pressed her lips to the blonde's and cradled her face with tender desperation. "I love you," she whispered, and kissed her again. Tara closed her eyes, not wanting to watch Willow leave her.  
  
As soon as the door shut, Tara fell to her knees, sobbing. "I love you too, Willow," she whispered back.  
  
  
  
Spike was sitting on the couch, impatiently waiting for Willow to come back, when the door finally opened and she came in. He'd been about to go out looking for her. Drinking blood and wandering around the house had occupied him for a total of ten minutes, but then the boredom sank in. Anger followed. How dare she go off and leave him there alone when he had plans to make her fall in love with him? But now she was home, and he could forget about all of that and concentrate on winning her over.  
  
Not wanting to appear too eager to see her, he stayed sitting, stretching his arms out to either side of the couch back and tilting his head back to see her when she... fell to the floor crying? What the hell was this then?  
  
"Pet? Uh, Willow?" He got up when she didn't answer, and stood beside her. "What's the matter, love?"  
  
She looked up at him with her big ole green eyes shining with tears, her lower lip quivering, sniffling pathetically, and he saw his chance. He knelt down and held his hand out for her to take. The next thing he knew, he was laying on the floor, and Willow was glaring down at him.  
  
"You can live here if you want, since I don't know the particulars of the bond, and you have to stay alive in order for me to stay alive, but you stay away from me."  
  
Angry that she was daring to tell him what to do, Spike stood up and shoved her back against the wall. "I already told you, Witch, I'm not a bloody dog. Don't order me around like one." He stood back a bit, looking at her critically. "Now, what's the crisis? Did Xander break a nail? Did Buffy have a thought? Or no, I'll bet your witch got out a complete sentence without a stutter."  
  
Willow walked past him without answering, and Spike was left staring after her, feeling very unsatisfied with how his seduction was going so far. It's possible he'd been a bit too sarcastic, he'd have to work on that.  
  
His stomach was healing nicely, so he decided to head out and practice his hunting skills. It'd been a while since he'd hunted humans, he might be a bit rusty. The cemetery was as good a place as any. He was as apt to run into vampires as he was humans, and if he ran into Buffy or any of the others, he could cover his ass by telling them he was patrolling.  
  
He lit a cigarette as he walked down the darkened streets of Sunnydale. The town he hated. Filled with the people he hated. But even more than that, it had the people he could eat. Drinking from Willow had awakened his bloodlust, big time. He once again craved his blood warm from a body, not warm from a machine. Wanted the taste of skin mixed in, not ceramic. Wanted the thrill and excitement of hunting humans, not the dull pleasure he got out of drinking microwaved blood from a coffee mug, wrestled out of a plastic bag.  
  
And, thanks to the Litchock, and Willow, he could once again taste fresh, warm, human blood. And he would... just as soon as one came along! Christ, where were all the meals... uh, humans, when one wanted them?  
  
A sound from behind him drew his attention and he sniffed the air. Heard a heart beat. Human. A hint of perfume wafted to him, and he smiled. Female. His favorite. Drunk. Also a favorite. He continued walking, turning down the first alley he came to. The woman went past, her high heels crunching on the pavement, sounding loud in the stillness of the night. Spike tossed his cigarette to the ground and left the alley.  
  
His prey was a few yards ahead of him, walking slowly. Unsteadily. She stumbled a little, catching herself on the wall, and giggling. Spike, playing the concerned gentleman, caught her arm, holding her up.  
  
"Are you all right?" Charming smile in place.  
  
"Oh, um, hi there," she giggled, leaning against him weakly. She reeked of beer and cigarettes, hair spray and make-up. Her blonde hair was an obvious dye job, since her red roots were showing, but she'd done her best to hide them. Her tight black dress was riding high on her thighs at the moment, and Spike had a hard time keeping his hold on her, when all he wanted to do was throw her down and walk away. "Have you seen my car?"  
  
Spike blinked at her. "What?" She probably wouldn't taste very good, he thought. Certainly nothing like Willow did. He could probably search the world over and never find a human who tasted as good as Willow.  
  
Who cares? He couldn't have Willow anymore, so he may as well get past that now. The drunk woman was looking around, presumably for her missing car. Spike checked to make sure they were alone and dragged her into the next alley. She laughed shrilly, but stopped when he shoved her roughly against the brick wall.  
  
"Ow," she whimpered, rubbing the back of her head. She squinted at him, and leaned forward. "Hey." She pulled something out of her purse and promptly dropped it when Spike vamped out and grinned. "What are you?"  
  
"Hungry."  
  
The woman screamed, and tried to push him away, but Spike had had enough. He shoved her back against the wall, wincing in anticipation of pain. When none came, he shoved her head to the side and bit into her neck. A sigh escaped him as he fed. He'd missed this. Missed the feelings, the emotions, the excitement... all of it. He felt great. Like a God.  
  
Draining the girl was fun, she grabbed his arm, clutching him in a death grip, only easing when her heart slowed. Spike dropped her to the ground, and lit a cigarette. Time to check on Willow... see how well she'd fared through all that.  
  
  
  
Willow popped three aspirin into her mouth and took a gulp of water, washing them down. She was going to kill Spike. No, first she would torture him, then she would kill him. A few well placed stakes, a couple bottles of holy water, crosses strapped to flesh... oh, yeah. Definitely a little of that.  
  
Massaging her aching head, she went back upstairs to her bedroom and laid down. Her eyes drifted shut and her body relaxed just as Spike stumbled into the room. Drunk.  
  
She sat up, startled. Her head pounded, making her feel miserable. "Get out," she told him angrily.  
  
He walked, a bit unsteadily, into the room, and knelt beside the bed. Taking her face in his hands, he examined her, ignoring her attempts to pull away. "Just wanted to make sure I didn't kill you. Don't want you to die."  
  
"Aw," she said sarcastically, slapping his hands away from her face. "How sweet."  
  
"Yeah. Stupid bond'll probably kill me too if you die." He yawned, and shrugged out of his duster, then knelt back down and laid his head on her stomach. "Always so bloody tired now," he mumbled.  
  
"Hey. Excuse me." She tapped his head to get his attention, which only made him snuggle closer, and wrap an arm around her waist. "I'm not your personal pillow." She wanted to shove him away from her, but that would require too much movement. "Spike? You better not be asleep."  
  
"Almost was," he growled, lifting his head to glare at her.  
  
She sneered at him. "Poor baby. Go. Away. You kill someone, and then come here expecting... what do you expect?" She shook her head angrily. "You can sleep in my parent's room, the guest room, the couch, I really don't care, just don't expect to sleep in here."  
  
Spike sat back and pulled his shirt off. "Didn't kill anyone. I left her alive. And I bloody well *am* gonna sleep here." He pulled off his boots and crawled over her to the other side of the bed.  
  
"Fine. I'll sleep in my parent's room." She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Nausea swept through her and she had to run to the bathroom. After throwing up everything she'd eaten that year, Willow rinsed her face and mouth. Feeling miserable, which was happening way too much since this bond thing had happened, she sat on the cool tile floor and glared in the direction of her bedroom.  
  
"I hate you, Spike," she whispered, then jumped when he knocked on the door. "What?" She leaned her sweaty forehead against the tub with a sigh.  
  
"You okay?" he asked. The words sounded so alien coming from him that Willow had to laugh weakly.  
  
"Just peachy." Climbing to her feet, she opened the door and went past him into her room. "You can go away now." She went to her French doors and pulled the blanket aside, slipping outside. A sigh escaped her as the cool night air blew against her heated skin.  
  
Spike didn't follow her outside, as she'd half expected him to do. He seemed to always be there lately, to annoy her, and piss her off. She had a feeling he was up to something, but she didn't know what. She sat down on the porch, and pressed her forehead against the glass panes, closing her eyes.  
  
The results were in; she'd definitely gotten the worst part of this bond. Pain, and lots of it, seemed to be her new theme. And what does Spike get? Not a damn thing as far as she could see. It would have been nice if he'd gotten something. Anything. Her emotions maybe. Willow grinned. That would have been funny. But cruel.  
  
And you getting his pain isn't cruel? she thought.  
  
Okay, true. But it wasn't like it was his fault. Besides, he seemed to have gotten her weaknesses. He was always tired, always sleeping. Maybe he would be perpetually tired for the rest of his--her--life. If it ended there.  
  
She sat up, remembering the book Tara had given her. The answers might be in there. She went downstairs to get the book, then took it back up to her room. She didn't see Spike, so she assumed he'd either left, or gone to one of the other bedrooms. 


	7. Bonded part 7

Disclaimer: See chapter 1 or 6.  
  
PART 7  
  
Willow dropped down on her bed, the book falling unnoticed beside her. That can't be right. The book is wrong, that's all there is to it. No way was she stuck with Spike for the rest of her-- their lives. Long lives. Immortal lives. Oh, boy. She'd read it wrong, that's all. So the bond they had sounded like a Proximity Bond, didn't mean it was... just that it was similar. Very similar.  
  
Gotta call Giles. He'll know. He knows about that stuff. All the bonds mentioned had a lot of things in common... things she could deal with. It was that last big doozy of a one that Willow didn't like.  
  
Phone. Where's the phone? On her desk where it always was. Duh. And Giles' phone number? Speed dial. Okay, we're rockin' now. She picked up the phone and took it to her bed, sitting cross-legged in the middle of it.  
  
Giles answered on the first ring, sounding annoyed. "Hello?"  
  
"Is this a bad time?" she asked. "I could call back."  
  
"Oh, Willow, uh, no. Is something wrong?" She heard him cover the mouthpiece and say something to someone. A customer, she assumed. He came back on a second later. "Willow?"  
  
"Um, I think I found out what kind of bond it is." She restlessly traced a finger along the binding of the book. "But, you have customers, I'll come down there."  
  
"No, that was just Xander. He and Buffy are leaving for patrol. Hang on, please." She heard him once again cover the mouthpiece. Muffled voices came through the phone, and Willow was sure she heard Xander say he was coming over.  
  
"Giles... Giles! Tell Xander no. Giles!" He couldn't hear her, she knew, which only frustrated her even more.  
  
Finally, he came back on the line. "Willow, um, I just talked Xander and Buffy out of stopping by," he said in a low voice, obviously not wanting to be overheard. "I told them you weren't feeling well. But they may decide to go anyway."  
  
"Thanks, Giles. I don't think I could face them right now. Not with what I just found out."  
  
"And what's that, love?" Spike asked from the doorway. He was sober, shirtless, and smoking in her hallway.  
  
"Giles, I have to go, but check out the Compendium of Magicks by Rafael." She hung up the phone and glared at Spike. He waited for an answer, which she wasn't ready to give him. He wasn't going to be happy. At all.  
  
So, she grabbed his cigarette instead, and went outside. "I told you not to smoke in here. It stinks."  
  
Spike took his cigarette back and blew smoke into her face. "Do you really expect me to obey non smoking rules, pet?" He leaned against the wall, watching her. "So what's the news?"  
  
Willow felt trapped. She didn't want to tell him, but he was sure to spot a lie. And could she lie to him? He deserved the truth. He deserved... not to be tied to a no longer completely mortal girl he couldn't stand for the rest of their lives. Not to have to protect her to ensure his continued existence. "Wanna hear something funny?" she asked with a weak smile.  
  
"No, I don't really like funny all that much... unless I'm the one doing the funning. How about you just say it?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Right. Okay. So, hey, ever wanted your own personal witch?"  
  
Spike stared at her through narrowed eyes. His cigarette, dangling from his fingers, sent wisps of smoke swirling between them. She had to squint through it to see him, and wished she hadn't.  
  
She knew he was a vampire, was reminded of it almost daily, usually by him, and had healing bite marks on her neck from said vampire. But, she'd almost forgotten. When the smoke was blown aside by a stray breeze, Willow was forcefully reminded. Forcefully, because he'd vamped out, and she was now pinned against the brick wall of her house. Pain showed up in two places at once, her throat, which was being held by Spike's hand, and her head, which was receiving pain from his chip.  
  
Sick and tired of being hurt and manhandled by him, just in the three days that the bond had been in place, Willow braced herself, drew her foot back and kicked him. Unfortunately, she didn't have any shoes on, so the effort was more pathetic than painful. She didn't even feel a twinge of his pain. But it did succeed in getting his attention.  
  
His face morphed back into human, and his hand loosened. "How long?" was all he said.  
  
Trying to pry his fingers from her throat, Willow answered him absently. "Until I die." Realizing what she'd said, and worried that he might take the opportunity to try rid himself of her, she hastened to add, "But... you don't want to kill me. 'Cause--"  
  
He smiled humorlessly, pulling her closer with his hand, which was still attached to her throat. "Kill you? I don't want to kill you." His face was inches away from hers, his lips hovering just above her own. "Shag you? Maybe. Feed off of you? Definitely. Kill you? Now why would I do that, when you're my best chance at having a normal, somewhat chipless life again?"  
  
Willow's breath caught in her throat when his lips pressed lightly to hers, once, twice. Her eyes slid shut in anticipation of the next touch, but it never came. She tried to get her emotions under control, but it was difficult when every inch of him was pressed against every inch of her. When his hands--when did his other hand get up there?--were holding her face so softly, caressing tiny circles with his thumbs. And, oh, his leg was between hers now. His lips were on her neck, sucking and nipping at the skin.  
  
Sure, she could get her emotions under control... anytime now. In an alternate universe maybe. And if that sexy voice, owned by the gorgeous vampire seducing her, wasn't whispering in her ear. Whispering sweet-- Buffy?  
  
"What?" Her eyes flew open and she was faced with a smirking Spike. His eyes were darkened with desire, but other than that, he was in complete control. Unlike her. She was breathing so hard she felt like she'd run a mile... an extremely pleasant mile. Focus, girl. "What?"  
  
He chuckled deeply and disappeared into the shadows. "Buffy and the moron are here," she heard him say, then nothing.  
  
Willow groaned. Buffy and Xander had the worst timing... Buffy and Xander? Oh, boy. What were they doing here? Giles told them not to come, so, of course, they came anyway. Rude friends. Sweet friends. The best.  
  
Straightening her clothes, she went into her room, and ran downstairs. On her way through the foyer, she spotted the extremely noticeable bigger-than-it-was-before hickey on her neck and slapped her hand over it. Damn. Make-up? Too late. High collared shirt? Upstairs. Hair? Check!  
  
Deep breath, open the door, and smile. "Hi, guys. What's up?"  
  
Buffy hug. Oops, keep the hair on your neck. Xander hug. Xander inspection. Uh-oh, he's seen the hickey. Bad, really bad. He's searching the living room, must distract him.  
  
"Hey, let's go into the kitchen. Want a soda? Some water?"  
  
"Sure. Water's always good," Buffy said, then frowned. "Xander? Hey, nosey."  
  
"Huh?" Xander replied, preoccupied with his not so surreptitious search. "Soda. Sure. Thanks." He finished his immediate search and was headed for the stairs, when Buffy grabbed his arm, halting him.  
  
"Xander, what is the matter with you?" she asked in irritation. "You've been weird all day. You and Anya fighting or something?" She sat at the kitchen table, while Willow got out a bottle of water and a can of soda from the fridge. "Thanks, Will."  
  
"Yeah, thanks, Will," Xander added. "Oh, hey. Got anything else in there? I just remembered, I'm all soda-d out." He watched her shrewdly, gauging her reaction. "I think I'm more in the mood for something... red. You know, that thing that most people find disgusting? You got any of that?"  
  
Buffy was looking from one of them to the other, frowning in confusion. "Red stuff?"  
  
Willow shook her head. "Oh, that stuff. Um, no. We don't have any left... of the disgusting red stuff. Sorry."  
  
Xander shrugged, opening his soda. "Oh, well. Coke it is then."  
  
"Red stuff?" Buffy repeated. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you guys were talking about blood. Or V8." She laughed lightly, then stopped when the other two didn't join in. "Okay. So, Giles said you were feeling blah, though he used more words, and not the actual, 'blah' word. How you doing?"  
  
Willow smiled. "Good. I'm good. Just had a headache, is all. Not a big deal." She nodded in affirmation of her words, but Buffy and Xander were still watching her. Feeling like she had to offer more, she decided to tell them about Tara. Just not the particulars. "Um... Tara and I-- well, Tara-- we broke up." Gosh, what's that tickling her eyes? Couldn't be more tears, could it? Nah. Couldn't be that. She sniffled, and bit her lip.  
  
"Oh, Will," Buffy said softly, "I'm so sorry." She got up to hug the other girl. "Are you all right? I mean, of course you're not all right, but... are you?" She smiled sadly, and shrugged. "Sorry. I'm bad at this kind of stuff. I'm more the action type. I could go beat her up if you want."  
  
Willow chuckled through her tears. "No, that's okay. Thanks anyway."  
  
Xander hugged her too, and whispered, "I'll kill him."  
  
Willow held him still, not letting him go. "Hurt him, and you hurt me," she whispered back.  
  
He nodded, and sat down, looking very helpless. She smiled, and ruffled his hair lightly.  
  
"I'm better now, you guys should probably get back to your patrol... or would that be, *start* patrol?" she teased. They both looked a bit chagrined, and she laughed. "Go on. I'll be fine. I have Ben, Jerry and a few others to keep me company."  
  
"We don't have to. Giles isn't the boss of us," Buffy said impudently.  
  
Xander laughed at her and pointed. "Is too. Ha ha."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and pouted. "Shut up." They all stood up, and headed to the front door. "Yay, patrol," she deadpanned. "I love my job." At the front door, she turned a stubborn look Willow's way. "I'll be back over afterwards though, okay?"  
  
Willow's eyes widened in panic for a moment, before she realized she'd just have to make sure Spike wasn't around when Buffy showed up. "Um, okay," she agreed, "but no chick-flicks."  
  
Buffy grinned. "Got ya."  
  
Xander, once again looking around them in a very suspicious manner, turned to them with a shudder. "Me too," he told them. "I'm coming too."  
  
Now Willow did panic. If Spike knew they were coming over, especially Xander, he'd probably stay here just to taunt him. And there was no way she could keep anything secret if Xander stuck another stake in Spike. "Um--" she bit her lip, not wanting to lie anymore than she already had, but, she couldn't take the chance of a confrontation turning deadly. She'd like to keep her life thank you very much. "You know," she said with a yawn, "I'm actually really tired tonight. Why don't-- um, we can do this tomorrow." Seeing Xander's suspicious look and Buffy's stubborn look coming back, she sighed. "Actually, I'd just sort of like some alone time tonight."  
  
Buffy backed off with a sympathetic smile. "Okay. But tomorrow, there'll be bonding. I mean it."  
  
Willow had to fight a giggle. "Definitely some bonding going on," she agreed.  
  
They hugged and said their goodbyes and did the general friend banter until Xander and Buffy finally left. Willow shut the door behind them, and slumped against it, closing her eyes with a sigh.  
  
Her eyes flew open again when an arm encircled her waist and a hand brushed her hair off of her cheek. Amusement flickered in Spike's eyes. "Miss me, pet?"  
  
Willow shook her head mutely, determined not to let him see how he affected her.  
  
The hand on her cheek slid down to her chest, resting just above her heart. "Liar." He grinned wickedly and kissed her with such intensity that she was left gasping for breath.  
  
She pulled her mouth from his, and pushed against his chest. "Spike?" Instead of answering, he seemed content to lightly kiss her jaw and neck. What was it with vampires and necks? Well, duh. Still, he's constantly attached to mine, like a leech. Ew, nasty thought. And he's staring at me now. "Hi."  
  
His mouth quirked in amusement. "Am I boring you?"  
  
Her snort let him know just how bored she hadn't been. "No. But we need to talk about the bond, 'cause otherwise I'm gonna chicken out and not tell you, and then you'll just be angrier, and angry vampires are not the best house guests."  
  
He pushed away from her with an impatient shrug, a hint of annoyance lighting his eyes. "Right. Well, let's hear it. How much more screwed up is my life going to get?"  
  
She swept past him, into the living room. Dropping on the couch, she turned to face him, her jaw set in irritation. "Your life? How about mine? I'm the human here. So far, I've got the raw deal. I get the joy of all your pain. The implant's probably going to give me brain damage. And on top of that, I get the added responsibility of causing people's deaths."  
  
He dropped into the chair across from her, a humongous sigh leaving his lips. "I don't plan on killing anyone. On purpose. It'd kill you, and most likely me right along with you. But I do intend to feed. Unless..." His gaze swept slowly over her. "Care to donate a couple times a week?"  
  
"Most definitely not."  
  
His shoulders lifted in an unconcerned shrug. "Then I'll just have to snack on the local population."  
  
She glared at him, her temper rising. "Stop trying to manipulate me, you jerk."  
  
His eyes widened in mock innocence. "Manipulate you, Willow? Certainly not. I wouldn't think of doing such a thing." A crooked smile split his face. "Okay, I am. But, it's fun."  
  
Looking forward to taking him down a peg or two, she grinned. "Ever heard of a Proximity Bond?"  
  
He shook his head, bored eyes lighting on his black-coated fingernails. He chipped at the polish there, flaking it off.  
  
"Well, that's what I think we've got. It means we have to stay within five miles of each other at all times, and some kind of physical contact is needed once a week, sort of like recharging a battery or something. Gosh, poor you."  
  
He looked up expectantly, waiting for the rest. "And?"  
  
She frowned, disappointment lacing her words. "Not poor you? I mean, I'm not exactly mortal anymore, which means you're going to be stuck with me for what could be a really long time. Maybe even a couple of centuries. If I die, you die, and vice versa. That's not..." she fluttered her hands in front of her, "you're not mad?" She could feel a pout coming on, but she covered it with a frown. "Why aren't you mad?"  
  
His laughter took her by surprise. She'd expected anger, fury and rage. Not laughter and amusement. "How is this a bad thing? Just... be prepared to leave town when I want, and give me a little touchy feely once a week, what's not to like?"  
  
She jumped to her feet, anger replacing her confusion. "Oh, I think not. Little Willow gets to follow the big bad vampire around for the rest of her life?" She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "Not gonna happen. In fact... you can follow me."  
  
"Not bloody likely," Spike shot back, his eyes pinning her in place. "And, I think I'd like to request a weekly shagging." He sniffed importantly and stood up, pacing. "Yeah. Also, I want some of your blood, at least once a week... though, I guess that could go with the shagging."  
  
Anger didn't even begin to describe what she was feeling now. She was so far beyond anger, she was... PO'd. "That is so not gonna happen."  
  
His smirk knew absolutely no bounds, it soared across his face like a bird. "I think it will. Way I see it, you either do what I say, or feel the pain from the implant while I snack on the local population. I might not kill anyone, but I'll make sure they hurt. A lot."  
  
She was shaking her head almost before he started speaking. "Sorry, Spike, but I don't think so. See, I have this friend, who happens to be a Slayer, and she kills vampires like you nightly. And since she really doesn't like you all that much, despite the fact that you're in love with her, she'll kill you."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes at her empty threat. "Kill me, kill you," he reminded her.  
  
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking him right in the eye. "Then I die."  
  
"You wouldn't," he taunted, narrowing his eyes at her.  
  
"I would," she confirmed. "I'm human, I have a conscience, I'm one of the good guys. I so would."  
  
"Fine," he sighed. "What does it matter anyway? I have no intention of leaving yet. We'll figure something out when and if one of us decides to leave. Deal?"  
  
Willow considered it for a minute, purposely angering him with her slow agreement, before finally nodding. "Deal."  
  
A slow smile spread across his face. "So, want to pick up where we left off?" He added a lascivious wink for good measure.  
  
Willow scowled. Not at him unfortunately, but at her body's reaction to him. "No," she lied, "I don't."  
  
He shrugged and went past her. "Think I'll stop by the shop for a bit. Been a while since I saw the gang. You know," he said thoughtfully, "I never did thank Xander for staking me." He tilted his head to the side. "No time like the present, right love?"  
  
Willow shook her head and sighed, following him into the hall. He was trying to get a rise out of her. Again. What was with him? Why was he constantly trying to taunt her? Especially after his big 'don't use Buffy to taunt me' speech that first night. "I wouldn't suggest it," she told him wisely, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
He paused at the front door, and turned back to her. "And, uh, why not?" he questioned. He tightened his jaw in annoyance.  
  
Willow almost smiled. He looked damn sexy, but also kinda... pouty. She kept her smile to herself and leaned against the wall. "You think Giles and Xander will greet you with open arms? You'll be lucky if they don't stake you on sight."  
  
Spike conceded the point with a nod. "Then take a walk with me, Witch."  
  
She found herself agreeing and out the door before she realized what she was doing. Going out into the dark night with Spike was probably not a good idea. Oh, lighten up, she told herself, he can't hurt you. A spring in her step, she strode beside the tall, blonde vampire, not looking into why she felt sort of happy. And why she was getting such a workout trying to keep up with him.  
  
She grabbed his arm, intending to tell him to slow down, but tripped on something in the middle of the street instead. She went flying forward, landing on her hands and knees, and sliding a bit before coming to rest by the curb. Pain lanced through her palms, and knee caps, followed quickly by a burning sensation. She sat down on the curb, stretching her legs out, trying to ease the discomfort.  
  
Spike stood in front of her, then knelt down, grabbing her hands. "Nice job," he approved. "What was that?"  
  
She glared at him, wincing when he brushed the dirt and pebbles from her palms. "I tripped." She looked over his shoulder at the object that caused her to fall. "Oh, no," she whispered, trying to stand up.  
  
Spike pushed her back down with a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"But--" she pointed behind him.  
  
"Sit. If you fall on your face, I'm not picking you up." He stood up and walked over to the object she'd tripped on. "Bugger," he muttered, bending down to look at the severed head. The body was nowhere in sight, but they didn't need it to know who--or what--it had been. "The Litchock."  
  
Willow dropped her head into her hands, moaning not in pain, but in despair. "There goes my last hope of having the bond reversed."  
  
"Was there actually a chance?" He reached out to pick up the head, but thought better of it, settling for kicking it gently out of the street. "Pretty eager to get rid of me, aren't you, love?"  
  
She absently watched the head roll under a car, and sighed, lifting her eyes to his. "Yeah. I mean... aren't you? Eager to be rid of me? You can't like this."  
  
Spike sat down next to her and lit a cigarette. Leaving it dangling from his lips, he took her hand, resuming his earlier ministrations. "Doesn't bother me that much." He sighed, looking off into the distance. "Besides, Giles will probably find a way to fix it. Doesn't he always?"  
  
"Yeah," she agreed, brightening considerably. "He does. We all do. You're right, we'll figure it out, and things will go back to normal, and we'll be free of each other."  
  
"Right." He tossed a look over his shoulder at the Litchock head. "Guess you'll be wanting to tell Giles about that."  
  
Willow nodded. "I should. Tomorrow." There was no hurry. The thing was dead, it wasn't going anywhere. She frowned at herself. How callous was that? Very. "Or I can call him."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and stood up. "If you're not going on account of me... don't. I'm a big boy, I can occupy myself for a few hours." He leaned against the car, watching a bird fly overhead.  
  
Willow stood up as well, and took a few tentative steps. Her knees didn't hurt too bad, and she didn't fall on her face like he'd expected her to do. Yay for her. "That's what I'm afraid of." Ever since their argument earlier, she'd been thinking about this a lot. With no pain, he was bound to feed whether it hurt her or not. So, what if she did donate a bit each night? Would that make her like Riley? Would it... make her a blood ho?  
  
He shrugged, grinning at her. "Told you, pet, you could make donations, that way you wouldn't have to worry about it."  
  
"Okay," she agreed quickly, before she lost her nerve.  
  
He started coughing, and yanked his cigarette out of his mouth. "What? I didn't-- what?"  
  
"If you're going to go out and feed off of people, hurting me through the chip, then I may as well be the one you feed off of." She bit her lip nervously. "Right?"  
  
"Wrong," he disagreed, starting towards the magic shop. "I'm not feeding off of you." His voice was strong, determined... and he was so obviously trying to convince himself.  
  
She sighed, sagging in relief. "Oh, thank God. I really don't think I could do that." But she didn't want to live with the pain of his chip every night either. Maybe even a few times a night... how often did a vampire feed a night? "Um, I don't suppose you'll go back to bagged blood?" she asked hopefully, leading the way down one of the dark, empty streets.He looked at her sideways, raising a scornful eyebrow. "What do you think?"  
  
She nodded, chuckling just a little. "I didn't think so. Guess I'll have to find a spell to block the pain then."  
  
"You think there is one?" he asked curiously, grabbing her elbow to steer her around a broken bottle.  
  
"I don't know," she said absently. "What was that?" Pointing behind them to the pieces of brown glass in the street, she turned her astonished gaze to his.  
  
He tossed a confused glance behind them, shrugging. "Beer bottle?" He sucked in a breath, rubbing his stomach lightly when she nudged his side.  
  
"Oh, sorry," she winced, mirroring his movements. Her abdomen didn't hurt so much as his hurt and was causing her pain. It was also still extremely bruised and icky looking. It'd be nice if she'd gotten his faster healing. It wasn't fair. And yes, she was in the running for Whiner of the Year. "Um, anyway, I meant--" letting out her breath in a rush, she shrugged. "Nothing." If he wanted to be a gentleman, who was she to comment on it? Maybe this was his part of the bond... her courteousness? Right, she scoffed silently.  
  
Spike watched her oddly, probably wondering what the heck she was on. "Uh-huh." Gesturing around them, he finished his cigarette and dropped it, stepping on the butt. "You do realize we're not on our way to Giles', right?"  
  
"Darn. You noticed," she said flatly. "Of course I realize that. I just needed to-- well, I figured while I was out anyway, I should... um, I have to--" she stopped, wondering why she was embarrassed about having to go to the store. Big deal, so what? It was just that... Spike and shopping weren't words that went together. Hell, he didn't even shop for clothes apparently. Either that, or they'd had a real big sale on black jeans, and black t-shirts. Probably the five-fingered discount. "Um, I just have to--"  
  
"Pause me to death?" he laughed. "You know, I think the blonde witch has been a bad influence on you. Made you fall back on old habits or something." Now it was his turn to nudge her.  
  
She hardly noticed the physical pain, she was too wrapped up in the mental and psychological. Tara. She was gone. Out of Willow's life forever. "Don't have to worry about that anymore," she said softly. "I told her about the bond last night. She knew. She knew I'd cheated on her." Willow frowned, feeling the familiar guilt tear through her. "Knew that it was permanent now."  
  
He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "I'm sorry." He seemed as confused and stunned as she was to hear the sincerity in his voice. "I didn't set out for any of this to happen."  
  
"I know," she assured him. "And, mostly, I don't blame you." She smiled crookedly, feeling it slip away almost before it appeared. "Tara thinks that-- well, basically she thinks I'll never be able to have a normal relationship ever again. Because of the bond."  
  
He snorted in disbelief. "Why?" In that one scornful word, he'd managed to pack in a whole lot of distaste, catching Willow off guard. She stared up at him, a little confused. Since when did Spike hate Tara? Seeing an equally confused expression on his face, she decided not to ask him about it. Looked like he wasn't so sure himself.  
  
"I don't know. She said something about vampires being possessive, but I don't know what she meant." I was a bit busy having my heart ripped out, she thought. Again. Now, not only was she whiny, but she was being overly dramatic as well.  
  
Seeing the distaste once again on his face, she wondered if this wasn't what Tara had meant. Vampires were possessive, and with a bond keeping him and Willow together, he'd be even more so. But would that really bleed over into active dislike of her ex? It was worth some thought.  
  
He didn't say anything, didn't even seem to be paying much attention to her anymore. His eyes were skyward again, on that same bird from before.  
  
"We're bound for life. That's gotta be daunting for her, knowing I'll always be around, but she won't be." He sighed heavily. "She also knows that we--"  
  
"You what?" a whiny, yet angry voice inquired.  
  
Willow shared a look and an eye roll with Spike as they both turned to face the newcomer. She stood there, all long blonde hair and snotty glares. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her foot was tapping. She looked more comical than threatening.  
  
"Harmony," Willow greeted, not one iota of warmth in her voice.  
  
"Willow," she greeted right back. "Spike."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Now that we all know who were are, what do you want?"  
  
Harmony pouted, stepping closer to Spike, trying to look innocent and sweet. She failed miserably. "When I saw you with *her*," Harmony griped, "I thought you were finally getting around to killing her. I mean, I did ask you to do it two years ago, and maybe you were a little slow in doing it, or not even doing it for me, but I figured it'd be fun to watch. So I followed you, but, you're not killing her. You're just being her Xander."  
  
"My Xander?" Willow inquired, but they both ignored her.  
  
"Harm," Spike said angrily, "you know damn well I can't kill her."  
  
She shrugged expansively, raising her arms out. "How was I supposed to know it was still there? Besides, I thought maybe you'd grown a backbone and overcome the pain or something. I met this guy in L.A. who said that--" Spike's hand around her throat cut her off.  
  
"Shove off, Harm, or I'm going to kill you for good. Got it?" His face vamped out, his eyes boring into the other vampire's.  
  
She nodded frantically, and he let her go. She gasped a few times out of habit, and backed away. "God. You're both dysfunctional, you know that? And I--"  
  
Spike growled impatiently. "*Now*, Harm, not an hour and a half of bitching from now, you stupid bint. Get the hell away from me. And stay away."  
  
Harmony sneered at him, her upper lip curling back like an angry dog's. "Make me."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes again, tempted to leave the two alone to... whatever it is they were doing. Or wanted to do. Mad, passionate sex maybe? That wasn't a pleasant thought. Not so much the visuals, though that was disturbing too, what bothered her was the twinge of jealousy that jumped up and screamed, 'no!' in a tiny voice. Afraid of what that twinge meant, she turned away and continued on her journey to the store. They could duke it out alone.  
  
Three blocks later, she heard footsteps behind her and felt a hand on her arm, halting her. Expecting Spike's impatient face, and irritated voice, she was already in an eye roll when she turned around. But, it wasn't Spike. Wasn't Harmony either.  
  
"Tara," she whispered, stunned to see her. It was too soon. She needed more time to get over her before she faced her... in the middle of a darkened street in the middle of town. Preferably, they'd see each other in the daylight, inside, away from demons and Spikes. "What--"  
  
"Shh," Tara said softly, raising her finger to Willow's lips. Her eyes were gentle, her smile tender as she cradled Willow's confused face in her hands.  
  
What was going on here? She stepped back, putting some distance between them. "We broke up. You can't just come around and... do whatever it is you're doing." Her eyes filled with tears as she fought the impulse to take Tara into her arms and hold her. Kiss her.  
  
Tara must have read her mind, because she suddenly grabbed both of Willow's wrists, pulled her closer and kissed her. Desperately. "I love you," she whispered before disappearing.  
  
No, not disappearing, turning into a six foot tall man. And a vampire at that. He was looking a little confused... no more so than she felt at the moment. "Lady, you always kiss strange vampires?"  
  
"Kiss?" she said incredulously, her eyes widening. "I didn't kiss-- you kissed... what the hell is going on here?" she asked no one in particular. "And where'd you come from? My girlfriend..." realizing she was talking to a completely strange... vampire, she pulled out her stake and dove at him.  
  
He easily caught her hand, halting the stake as it pierced the flesh of his chest. They both stared at the small drops of blood appearing on his stark white shirt. His golden eyes turned to dark green, his ridged face to smooth skin. A nice handsome face stared back at her, brow furrowed in confusion again.  
  
"Maria?" he queried. A grin split his mouth just before he grabbed her in a bear hug. "I thought you were dead, baby. God, I'm glad to see you. Immortality is boring without you."  
  
Willow, aside from being confused and stunned, was having a little trouble breathing with his arms holding her so tightly. She mumbled her protest, squirmed a bit, and tried to get her stake out to dust him with. It was stuck firmly between them in her hand, but, he finally let her go, dropping her to her feet before pulling her along by her hand.  
  
"Hey, hey, guy. Whatever your name is, I'm not this Maria chick, I'm Willow, and why am I telling you this?" She swung the stake around again, and once again, it was stopped by him. He looked all hurt and stuff.  
  
"Baby, tell Jack what's wrong. You still mad that I left you behind to face the Slayer alone?" Contrition covered his face, and his eyes softened, while his voice turned cajoling. "I had to leave, sweetie. She was wicked deadly that night. And--"  
  
"And," Willow finished for him, "tonight, I'm deadly. Buh-bye." She yanked her stake out of his chest, and stuck it back in her jeans pocket, dusting her hands off. "Ugh, vampire dust is disgusting."  
  
"Good," Spike said, crossing the street toward her. "Then maybe you'll refrain from turning me into it any time soon."  
  
Willow shrugged lightly, in a much better mood than before. "Maybe. Maybe not." She looked behind him, making sure there were no more vampires hanging around. Like Harmony. "Where's your bimbo babe?"  
  
Spike glared at her as he fell into step beside her, but she could hear him laughing. "Running home to her new boyfriend 'Jack', I guess. She just spent the last two minutes extolling his virtues. And comparing me to him." He shook his head in disgust. "Needless to say, I came out lacking."  
  
Willow burst out laughing, looking back at the pile of dust that Jack used to be. "I think he's a bit lacking now as well." She pointed to what was left of Harmony's boyfriend. "Jack's a little under the weather right now... and forever. It's probably for the best anyway. He was in love with someone else." She started off to the store again, leaving Spike to follow.  
  
"You found out all this in the short time you were alone with him? Must've been a chatty bloke," he mused, getting in front of her and turning around to walk backwards.  
  
"Well," she said, contemplatively, "not really. More like, um, I kissed him, apparently--"  
  
Spike's eyes shot to hers, disbelief written all over his face. "What? You kissed him?" They were directly in front of the store now, but he stopped walking, forcing her to stop as well, or run into him. "If you're that hard up, babe, I'd be glad to--"   
  
"The way it happened from my POV," she said loudly, talking over him, "was she kissed me. And then she was suddenly a he. I tried to stake him, but he stopped me, and then he thought I was his girlfriend Maria." Finished with her explanation, she moved around him and headed into the store.  
  
"Wait, wait, wait." Spike ran after her, grabbing her arm as she headed into the cookie aisle. "So, what are we thinking? A spell?"  
  
She shrugged, taking a package off the shelf and continuing down the aisle. "I don't know. You tell me. This is as new to me as it is to you." Another package of cookies and she was on her way to the beverage aisle. She handed Spike the cookies and took a couple of six packs off the shelf.  
  
He was hardly paying attention to what she was doing or what he was carrying. His mind was on the problem of her seeing Tara in a vampire. "Has to be a spell. Or maybe some kind of reality distortion." He frowned, accepting the chips and popcorn she set on top of the cookies. "Where'd that idea come from? I don't even know what a reality distortion is. Sounds like something Dru would say," he chuckled, following her to the check out lane. This late at night, the store was mostly empty, so they were the only ones in line.  
  
The clerk was reading a magazine and snacking on grapes. Willow set all her items on the conveyor belt and pulled Spike along with her. It was like he was in a trance, paying only minimal attention to the world around him. It was kind of annoying, actually. "Spike, hello?"  
  
The clerk looked up briefly as she scanned the items, giving Willow a small smile in greeting. Her eyes settled on Spike and pretty much stayed there, her whole face looking years younger than her over forty or so.  
  
Willow sighed in annoyance, wondering why everyone seemed to be taking such an interest in Spike lately... including her. But then she realized that Spike was looking back just as intently. She frowned, wondering if there was a story there that she seriously didn't want to know about, and groaned aloud when he clenched his jaw in anger.  
  
"Dru," he bit out, circling the counter to the checker who was now more frightened than attracted. "What the hell are you doing back here? I told you I didn't--"  
  
Willow grabbed his arm, keeping him from advancing anymore on the poor woman. "Spike, whoa, stop," she ordered, fighting to hold him there. Aside from her fine holding back qualities, he didn't even notice she was there. "Spike."  
  
"Lady, what's his problem?" the clerk asked, backing even further away. She was practically climbing on top of the conveyor belt in her haste to get out of his reach. "Time for his medication?"  
  
Spike snarled at her, thankfully not in his game face, and spun away. Willow quickly grabbed her groceries, tossed the money on the counter and ran after the delusional vampire. "Spike, wait... please," she panted, already winded by the time she hit the parking lot.  
  
Spike was standing on the sidewalk, looking around in confusion, an altogether too frequent occurrence in the last half hour. "What just happened?" he asked when he saw her.  
  
"If you're that desperate," she mocked, striding past him. "Welcome to the club of strange and unusual, hope you enjoyed your stay."  
  
He caught up to her, another all too frequent occurrence tonight, and took one of the bags from her. "Oh. Well, wasn't that fun? Let's go drop these things off and look it up. Something's going on, and it's probably not a good thing. Never is in this town."  
  
Willow agreed whole-heartedly. Whatever it was that was happening, seemed intent on making people think they were seeing a loved one. But, was that all, or was it a loved one they were separated from? "Spike?"  
  
"Hmm?" He was busy digging a cigarette out of his pocket and trying to light it while holding the bag of groceries. Not an easy feat for a human, but a piece of cake for a vampire. "Yeah?"  
  
"Do you still love her?" He looked over at her, taking a drag off his cigarette. She hefted the weight of her bag around, and switched hands. "Dru I mean, not Buffy... I know you still love Buffy. But, well, I saw Tara, and that vampire saw his girlfriend Maria, you saw Dru... so I figured we were seeing the people we loved." Her nervous tirade trailed off into silence.  
  
His eyes shot to hers, looking a little surprised about something, but he didn't say what. "She's my sire, and the woman I spent more than a century with, of course I love her. But I'm not in love with her anymore."  
  
That wasn't happiness shooting through her. Fighting a sudden smile, she nodded. "Okay, so maybe it's just people who are on our minds. I was thinking about Tara a few minutes before I saw her in Jack. You were thinking about Dru. Hey," she said, allowing the smile to surface, "problem solved... well, partially. Now all we have to do is figure out why we're hallucinating. And we can do that at my house, rather than paying the angry Watcher and male best friend a visit." Giving him a haughty look, she pointed down the street with her free hand. "Home, James."  
  
"Cute. You're a funny witch." 


	8. Bonded part 8

Disclaimer: See part 1, or 6.  
  
PART 8  
  
Spike looked up from the enormous tome on his lap when Willow sighed heavily. He wasn't actually reading the Latin words on the pages, he was too busy wondering if he should step up his seduction of her. He'd caught her little slip-up outside the store earlier. She'd said loved. Not love, or in love, the exact word she'd used was 'loved'. Which meant, not only was she no longer attached to the blonde witch, but she was also no longer in love with her. So he didn't have to worry about breaking them up, but would she be amenable to his sudden advances?  
  
"No," Willow repeated for the third time, the phone cradled between head and shoulder as she flipped through a book similar to Spike's. "Um, Giles, I didn't look *that* closely. It was a severed head, lending itself to uckiness." She rolled her eyes and smiled as she listened. "That's ok. But, I think the-- yeah. Way more important."  
  
Spike turned his attention back to the pages in front of him. She'd been on the phone for five minutes already, and because of Giles' chattiness, she was just getting to what he was supposed to be researching. The hallucinations. He hadn't any idea what he was looking for. A demon, a spell, both?  
  
"No, Giles. No, he's-- yeah. If you could call it behaving," Willow laughed, smirking at Spike.  
  
Spike glared at her, offended. "I never 'behave', love. I'm a rebel." She waved her hand, trying to silence him. He went back to his book with a smirk.  
  
"Okay, Giles. Tomorrow. Yep. Bye. Oh, tell Buffy and the others hi for me. Uh-huh. Okay, bye." She hung up the phone and carried her huge tome over to the couch, dropping down with a sigh. "Giles is very happy to know that you're not--"  
  
"Running around biting every human within reach?" he asked in exasperation.  
  
She nodded as she flipped through pages. "Pretty much." After a few minutes of silence aside from the flicking of pages, she stood up, tossing her book down on the seat she'd just vacated. "Maybe I should go to the Magic Box," she told him.  
  
He didn't glance up at her, though he wanted to. He could hear it in her voice, she was nervous and biting her lip. He'd like to bite that lip, which is why he kept his eyes firmly on the words in front of him "Why? We have books here."  
  
"But Giles has better books," she reasoned. "And my laptop, which I left there the other day."  
  
Now he did look at her, a niggling suspicion worming its way into his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes at her. "If you're that anxious to get away from me, then go." He was rather proud of himself for not letting her hear the anger in his voice.  
  
Her eyes widened as if the thought had never even entered her mind. "Oh. No, it's not that. At all," she assured him. "It's just that... well, Xander's there, and he's mucho liable to spill the beans to Buffy, and I want to be the one to spill the beans to Buffy 'cause of how he's biased and all. Plus, I wanted to talk to him about the dangers of staking you."  
  
He wasn't at all happy with the thought of having Buffy in on their secret. It was a sure bet that she'd be around all the time if she knew, to protect poor little Willow from the big bad vampire. How could he seduce Willow and avoid Buffy if she was constantly underfoot? Returning his attention to the book on his lap, he casually said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."  
  
"You w-- but why? You think she'll take it badly?" She must've realized how dumb a question that was, because she snorted and answered herself. "Well, duh. Of course she'll take it badly."  
  
"What's the sudden rush? I doubt the moron will say anything, not with Rupert around." He shrugged, unconcerned.  
  
"Yeah, because Xander's always been one for not saying something when he shouldn't," she laughed.  
  
The doorbell rang, halting anything he'd been about to say. Willow looked around in a panic, her eyes widening to comic degrees. She yanked the book from his hands and tossed it on the couch.  
  
"You've gotta go. Upstairs somewhere," she said distractedly, pulling him to his feet. "I think that's Buffy. And I'd kinda like to tell her before she has a chance to stake you."  
  
Spike didn't immediately let go of her hand, though she tried to walk away, and was now pulling at it a little wildly. He stepped around the coffee table, drawing her closer to him, his fingers holding tight to hers to keep her there. "Worried about me?" he asked softly, leaning down to kiss her. Instead of touching his lips to hers, he let them hover above hers for a few seconds.  
  
She frowned in confusion, her mind completely on whoever their unwanted guest was. "Huh?"  
  
"Nothing," he chuckled, pressing his lips to hers before straightening up and leaving the room.  
  
Willow stared after Spike for a minute, touching her tingling lips with her fingertips for a moment. She tried to calm her breathing and pounding heart, thankful that this time, he wasn't the sole reason for her heightened heart rate. The person at the door was the main cause. Ack, speaking of which. She ran to the hall, yanking the door open just as Buffy was about to knock. Luckily Buffy saw her in time, halting the hand about to crack open Willow's forehead.  
  
"Hi!" Willow greeted her, giving her a big strained smile. "What are you doing here?" Realizing how rude that sounded, she rushed to assure her, "Not that that's a bad thing... you being here. Just that, I thought you weren't going to be. Here."  
  
Buffy shrugged, slipping past her into the hallway. "I thought you might want some company. After the way we all treated you after Oz left... well, I thought maybe you were just saying you didn't want company." She turned to face Willow, looking all cheerful and upbeat. "So what do you say? Wanna spend some girlie time together? You, me, a dark cemetery and not a lot of vamps hopefully?"  
  
Hearing a familiar creak in the floorboards nearby, Willow grabbed Buffy's arm, pulling her out the door and slamming it firmly behind them. "Buffy, are you coming on to me?" she teased, casting a cautious look over her shoulder at her bedroom window. Empty. Good.  
  
Buffy tripped over thin air, but caught herself before she dragged both of them down on their faces, turning around to glare at the offending air. "What? I-- no. I was just... I meant--"  
  
Willow rolled her eyes at Buffy, giving her a pointed look.  
  
Buffy grinned shamefacedly. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?" She sighed as they reached the sidewalk along the street. "I'm not freaked, I'm really not. It's just different is all."  
  
"Not so different," Willow countered. "Love is love, no matter what gender the person is." Or species, she added silently. Tossing another surreptitious look over her shoulder at her house, she hoped Spike had the good sense to just stay away from Xander. He should be okay if he avoided... well, actually everyone.  
  
"Do you miss it?" Buffy asked, startling Willow. Buffy tossed her a sideways look. "Being with a man, I mean. Is it... well, I know there are things that you can-- and probably, for all I know, actually do... with Tara. But that's not my business, and I'm going to just pretend I didn't ask that, and move on. So, nice weather we've been having, huh?"  
  
Willow burst out laughing as Buffy's face went from a warm golden shade to a sickly pale one, and then moved on to bright red. "Actually, no, I don't miss it, but not because of the me and Tara doing... things reason. Or because I miss men. There's a whole other reason." She ended up mumbling the last bit, but Buffy caught it and stopped her with a hand on her arm.  
  
"There's someone else!" she accused, her eyes widening, then narrowing. "Is that why Tara broke up with you?"  
  
Panic assailed Willow, and she had to stop herself from hyperventilating. "No, that's not why-- well, yes. But not because... oh, boy."  
  
"Spill," Buffy ordered with relish. "I need vicarious thrills now. I'm thrill-less lately." She looked away sadly, but her grin returned quickly. "Come on," she motioned to the Shady Pines Cemetery across the street and started that way.  
  
Willow stared after her for a few good long seconds. She debated running in the opposite direction, but discarded that idea. Buffy had slayer speed, she'd catch her in no time. And the only other option was to kill Buffy. Sighing, she crossed the street, joining Buffy in the cemetery. Just as she passed through the gates, she felt a hand wrap around her throat and yank her backward.  
  
"Spike?" she whispered, turning to look behind her. Definitely not Spike. Big muscles, stringy black hair, and lots of make-up. "Oh, hi... um, s-- sir. You're supposed to be Cher, right?"  
  
"Shut up," the vampire hissed angrily, tightening his hand around her neck. "Hey, Slayer, I've got your girlfriend here!"  
  
Buffy, having felt the vampire, or heard their exchange, was already aware of the situation. She stood a few feet away watching them. "I can see that," she agreed, pulling a stake from her jacket pocket. Her eyes shifted to Willow as she circled around them. "You okay?"  
  
Willow nodded jerkily and smiled. "Uh-huh. Look, Buffy, he's Cher," she said encouragingly, trying to placate the vampire. A cough escaped her when the hand once again tightened on her throat. "Sorry," she whispered, fighting to breathe. It was a little difficult now, since he seemed intent on crushing her windpipe.  
  
Buffy casually tapped the stake against her left hand, strolling around them. Cher-wannabe turned Willow with him as he kept Buffy in sight.  
  
"Cross-dressing," Buffy mused, smirking at the vampire. "Your idea, or the human's?" She shook her head at herself. "Doesn't matter. Either way you die."  
  
The vampire, mostly silent until now, sighed heavily, his whole chest expanding with the force of drawing in air. Willow felt like she was on an inflatable mattress. "Look, Slayer, and... Slayer's girlfriend, I just want a meal. No fighting." He tipped Willow's head to the side, peering down at it. "Come on, just let me have her. She's used goods anyway."  
  
Willow's eyes widened. Crap, Spike's bitemark was there. Oh, and the hickey. Big hickey. Now in plain sight for Buffy to see. And, noticing Buffy's eyes narrow, she did see. "Funny story," Willow said with a weak laugh. "And, I'll tell you it just as soon as I think of one," she muttered miserably.  
  
"Who bit you?" Buffy asked harshly, the vampire holding Willow practically forgotten in their discussion.  
  
"Um," Willow squeaked out through her pained throat, "remember that whole other reason why I don't miss guys?" She was trying for flippant, hoping Buffy would see the humor in the extremely non-humorous situation, but all she succeeded in doing was making Buffy even more angry.  
  
"A vampire?" Buffy said in disbelief, her eyes solely on Willow. "The 'whole other reason' guy is a vampire?"  
  
"Hey," the vampire holding her said, sounding a little neglected. "You give it up for other vampires, we get that. Great. Donate to me." He pushed her away from him for a split second, turning her as he did so, then his fist shot out, connecting with the whole left side of her face.  
  
She went flying backward, landing hard on the ground. Through a haze of pained tears and dirt in her eyes, she was able to make out Buffy and the vampire fighting. Grunts and groans sounded all around her as she struggled to sit up. She pushed her arms under her, trying to move into a sitting position, but her elbows wouldn't lock, and she ended up hitting her head on the cold, hard ground again as she fell backward.  
  
She thought maybe she passed out for a few seconds, because the next thing she knew, a hand was yanking her up, shoving her neck roughly to the side. It was the same guy, she realized, squinting through her one good eye to see Cher-hair hanging in front of her. Teeth ripped into her neck, and she started to struggle, wondering where Buffy was.  
  
"Ah-ah," Buffy's voice said from behind them, "you didn't say please."  
  
The vampire let her go, shoving her away from him.  
  
Willow opened her eyes and forced her feet under her. Her knees quit trying to turn to rubber, and strength and reason was returning to her. Buffy was fighting the vampire a few feet away, and it didn't look like she had the upper hand. Spying a tree a couple of yards from the fighting couple, Willow headed that way, intending to break off a branch and help her friend.  
  
Just as she got to the tree and reached over her head to grab the closest branch, she felt a hand wrap around her neck. Again. Tired of being manhandled by this vampire, she swung around, biting back the nausea threatening to overwhelm her, and shoved him away from her. Surprise was the only reason she was able to get him away from her.  
  
"Willow," Buffy shouted to her left. "Get out of here!" Following her words was a blur of movement in the night. Buffy landed on the vampire's chest, knocking them both to the ground with a grunt.  
  
Instead of running, Willow once again grabbed the branch and this time snapped it off. She snuck up behind the vampire currently on top of Buffy, and shoved the branch into his back, dropping to the ground in exhaustion.  
  
"Ah, heck," the vampire muttered, looking down at his chest.  
  
Willow dropped to the ground as the vampire exploded into dust, rolling as she fell, so she wouldn't land on her face. Mostly it worked. She rolled the wrong way and ended up hitting only the left side of her face. "Ow," she groaned, laying there, unmoving, staring at the blades of grass immediately in front of her eyes. They alternately moved toward and away from her as she breathed.  
  
Buffy crawled over, checking her over to make sure she was all right.  
  
Willow smiled. "I'm okay," she whispered, wondering why her voice wasn't as loud as it should be. Her throat hurt a lot, but certainly not so much that it should barely let her talk. Clearing it, she tried again, but had the same result. Raspy and low. "I'm good."  
  
Buffy tossed her a disbelieving look. "You're so *not* good, Willow." She frowned in concern, and knelt before Willow, helping her up with a groan. She wrapped her arm around Willow's waist and started them off in the direction of the Magic Box. Her concerned glance quickly turned into a strained smile, meant to be reassuring. "And don't think I'm coming on to you," she chuckled, tightening her arm around Willow's waist, "'Cause, I don't care what you say, I'm not putting out."  
  
Willow laughed tiredly, forcing one foot in front of the other. She was close to losing consciousness, she knew, and she tried desperately to hang on, fighting off the blackness that was creeping around the edges of her vision. "That's okay," she told Buffy, "I don't think Spike likes to share anyway." She had to stay awake to protect Spike. If she didn't, it was possible she'd wake up to a deader than usual Spike. Or not wake up at all.  
  
Buffy snorted with laughter and scorn. "Oh, please. Spike doesn't have any say in who or what I do."  
  
Willow nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. "So, remember that funny story I was going to tell you about the vampire that bit me and the whole other reason guy?" she asked.  
  
Buffy came to a complete standstill, causing Willow to run straight into her. "Not Spike?" she inquired, almost fearfully, looking extremely grossed out. At Willow's nod, she stomped her foot angrily, repeating loudly and more forcefully. "Not Spike!"  
  
"Jealous?" Willow chuckled before falling to the ground unconscious.  
  
  
  
Buffy carried Willow into the Magic Box, causing the two customers in the shop to gasp and run out. Giles, hardly sparing the couple a glance, rushed to take Willow from her. She gratefully relinquished her burden, sighing in relief. She was strong, had her Slayer strength, and had extra stamina due to her concern for Willow, but after two miles of carrying her, Buffy had started to tire. A third mile had nearly killed her.  
  
Giles, not as strong as Buffy, sagged with the sudden burden of carrying a human body. He barely managed to keep his footing as he made his way to the training room, laying her on the couch in there. "Vampire?" he asked Buffy, climbing to his feet to get the first aid kit from the bathroom.  
  
"Uh-huh." She knelt beside Willow, using her shirt to wipe away some of the blood from her neck. Her jaw clenched in anger when she saw the bitemark under Cher-wannabe's bite, not to mention the hickey surrounding it. "Spike bit her," she told Giles when he returned. The fury in her voice didn't escape her Watcher.  
  
"I know-- wait, he bit her?" His startled gaze flew from Buffy, who was suddenly gaping at him, to Willow, who wasn't moving at all. "That bloody bastard," he ground out.  
  
"You know?" she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him, wondering when the hell everyone had gone insane. "Care to share?" She laughed shortly, tossing a look at Willow. "Don't think I'll get anything out of Spike, because, according to Willow, he doesn't like to share."  
  
Giles popped the clasp on the blue metal box, and set it on the floor by the couch, kneeling down next to it. "The Litchock demon that hit them with magick bound them together. It's not Willow's fault, and I suppose it's not even Spike's fault, but if he did this to her, I'm taking back my promise not to kill him."  
  
"She's been bound to Spike for... what? Three days now, and no one cared enough to inform me?" The thought hurt. That her friends didn't think she could handle the truth. Okay, it's possible she would've tried to stake Spike to save Willow, maybe even without getting all the information first, but that they hadn't trusted her enough to even try. It hurt.  
  
In the middle of cleaning up the blood with an alcohol pad, Giles turned to her briefly before going back to his task. More out of discomfort, she thought, than an urgent need to clean the dried blood off of Willow's neck.  
  
"Since you died, you've been... distant," he informed her, confirming her previous thoughts.  
  
Instead of denying it, she nodded, sitting at the end of the couch by Willow's head. She lifted Willow's shoulders and scooted under her, smoothing her red hair from her bruised and bloodied face. "So, what's involved with this bond?"  
  
Giles sighed as he cut a square of gauze and four pieces of tape. "It doesn't matter. If Spike did this, the bond will be gone very soon." He pressed the gauze to Willow's neck, smoothing a piece of tape across the bottom of it. "Just as soon as I get a stake to dust him with."  
  
Buffy frowned, not really wanting to defend Spike, but she couldn't in good conscience let Giles kill him. "He didn't hurt her. We were on patrol, sort of. Actually, it was just a walk to spend time together, but I decided to patrol a little more while we talked." She dropped her head on the back of the couch, shifting a little so her hair wasn't caught behind it. "I shouldn't have--"  
  
"Lament later," Giles told her, getting to his feet. "What happened?"  
  
"A cross-dressing vampire that wanted to be Cher hit her, full force. He also bit her, but didn't get a lot." Smoothing the hair from the stark white gauze on Willow's neck, she stared at it, as if she could see right through the thin material. "There was another bitemark under there. I'm pretty sure it's Spike's." Raising tired eyes to Giles, she asked her question again. "What's involved with this bond, and how long will it last?"  
  
Before he could answer, the door to the training room slammed open. Buffy's head shot up to see Spike standing there, panting like a human, looking around wildly before his eyes settled on her lap. No, not on her lap. On Willow.  
  
His entire posture relaxed and his face went blank. He tried for casual and annoyed, but none of them bought it. "Don't you people answer phones around here?"  
  
Buffy scooted gently out from under Willow's head and stood up. She stayed away from Spike, not sure she could keep a handle on her fury at the moment, and judging by the way his eyes had narrowed, and his fists were clenching as tightly as his jaw, she didn't think he could either.  
  
"You bit her," was all she said. There wasn't a ton of accusation in there, but some had leaked through.  
  
His eyes flew to hers, narrowing even further. "Did not," he tossed back. "What, uh, what happened to her?"  
  
His voice was oh-so casual, like he didn't care at all, but considering his eyes had barely left Willow since he'd barged in, Buffy knew better. And she marveled at the news.  
  
Giles set the first aid kit on the pommel horse, and turned to Spike with a feral look. "Buffy knows about the bond. And I know you bit Willow."  
  
Spike looked caught. He patted down his pockets for his cigarettes and finally shoved his hand deep into his duster pocket, coming up with a crumpled pack. He shook one out, planting it between his lips and lighting it. Looking up through the smoke, he shrugged. "It was an accident."  
  
Buffy laughed derisively. "What, you slipped and your fangs accidentally landed on Willow's neck? 'Oops, my bad'," she mocked, doing a really bad imitation of his accent, "'didn't mean to bite ya, love.'"  
  
She saw Giles' lips twitch along with Spike's, and turned a glare his way.  
  
Willow moaned behind them, shifting on the couch. She was still asleep, but if Buffy had to bet, she'd say only for another few minutes.  
  
Spike's eyes moved away from Willow for a second, settling on her, and she was surprised to see none of the creepiness she'd gotten used to seeing on his face. She could've jumped for joy, but she was afraid the stalker routine had only been switched to Willow. And that was unacceptable. Willow's swelling eye and purpling skin attested to the fact that she couldn't defend herself against Spike if he tried to hurt her. And he would, he was a vampire after all--  
  
"How did you bite her?" she asked suddenly, realizing the implant wasn't working on him anymore.  
  
"She gets the pain," he mumbled gesturing to Willow with his cigarette. "But before you go trying to stake me," he hurried to add, "you might want to know that she could die as well. Tell her, Rupert."  
  
Giles rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "It's true."  
  
Buffy nodded, considering Spike's words. "Are we taking his word for it, or do we have proof of that?"  
  
"Look at her stomach," Spike told her.  
  
Buffy frowned, glancing down at Willow. Her shirt was big, oversized. Pain filled reasons? Buffy wondered. She'd certainly done that enough herself. Leaning down, she lifted the hem of Willow's shirt and gasped. "What happened?" Her entire abdomen was covered in mottled bruising. Faded, but still rather recent. "Giles?" she said louder, demanding an answer. "What happened?"  
  
Spike answered for her. "I got staked by--"  
  
Giles sighed, turning a glare briefly toward Spike before facing Buffy fully. "Go get the Compendium of Magicks by Rafael, it's under the counter."  
  
"No--" she began, only to be cut off by a very angry Giles.  
  
"Get the damn book, Buffy." He motioned toward the front of the store. "The answers are in there. It can tell you more than I can."  
  
She nodded, fighting the urge to yell back. That wouldn't solve anything. And, hey, look at her, thinking before hitting. She left the room behind, searching under the counter for the book. And, naturally, there were a ton of books on the shelves. Large, leather bound tomes. Ancient looking. Sighing, she knelt down, beginning her search for the Compendium of Magicks by Rafael.  
  
Luck was with her, because it was only the fifth book she checked. Hefting the huge brown thing in her hands, she stood up and headed back to the training room. Giles' voice had her pausing in the doorway to listen.  
  
"...bite her again, I'll--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Spike sighed, sounding extremely bored. "Heard it all before, Rupert. Haven't hurt her yet, have I?" He paused only long enough to answer his own question before continuing. "No, I haven't. Won't be either."  
  
Buffy moved into the room, joining them by the couch. Spike was sitting in the spot she'd vacated when he showed up, the cigarette no longer dangling from his lips or his fingers. Dropping the book into Giles' hands, she glared at Spike. "Hands," she warned him.  
  
Spike looked up from his perusal of Willow's bruises to toss her an exasperated glare. His hand, the one threading through Willow's hair, left her to rest on the back of the couch. "Jealous?" he smirked, though there was no real conviction behind the words.  
  
Giles handed her the open book, pointing at the right page. "It's one of these, though I've no idea which one. I haven't had a chance to look through them since Willow rang earlier. The shop's been busy, and with Anya off tonight--"  
  
"Proximity Bond," Spike supplied, rolling his eyes at Giles.  
  
Buffy looked at him in time to see him move his arm back to the top of the couch. Her eyes narrowed at him, threatening him with bodily harm if he didn't stop touching Willow, but they both knew it was an empty threat. She wouldn't hurt Willow through Spike just to prove a point. Or drive a point home. A nice, sharp pointy point.  
  
"Proximity Bond," she muttered, sitting on the pad on the floor and getting comfortable. The book was heavy, and her arms were still recovering from carrying Willow three miles to the Magic Box. Tracing her finger down the page, she quickly skimmed through the worst of the bond's restrictions. Flipping to the next page, she hoped that was all there was, nothing major, just a little space limitation, and yuck, touching. But a brief, supervised touch could be arranged every week. No big deal.  
  
But then she read what was on the next page, and remembered Willow's words earlier. "Giles," she said tightly, "how did their bond become permanent?" She didn't know exactly why she was asking, since she was pretty positive she already knew the answer.  
  
There was no way Willow would do any of the things listed here, except maybe one.  
  
"I have no idea," Giles answered. He looked over at her, frowning in concern. "Why?"  
  
Buffy stood up and dove at Spike, wrapping her hand around his neck. "Tell me it was consensual," she demanded, though it was more a plea than an order.  
  
"It bloody well was consensual," he yelled, offended. His hand tightened around hers, trying to remove it from his neck, but he wasn't trying very hard. His eyes darted to Willow. "You're hurting her." He shoved Buffy away from him.  
  
Giles was now beside her, glaring down at Spike as well. "So Xander did have reason to stake you." His tone was cold, his eyes hard.  
  
"Wait a minute," Buffy interrupted, "Xander staked Spike? He knows too? Am I the only one who doesn't know about the damn bond?"  
  
"Yes," Spike answered spitefully. Looking up from his examination of Willow's neck, and the faint bruising there from the vampire earlier, he turned to glare at Giles. "Xander did not have cause to stake me. If sex is a crime, better kill everyone in this room."  
  
"Hear hear," Willow mumbled, opening her eyes to look up at them. The left one was swollen shut, the right one was dimmed with pain and weariness. Her whole face looked like a giant bruise. She pushed herself slowly into a sitting position, sighing and hanging her head once she got there. "Could 'ow' possibly be more of an understatement?"  
  
Buffy watched Willow with a frown, and opened her mouth to speak before she could stop herself. "You slept with Spike."  
  
Giles tore his glasses off, wiping at his eyes as if he could erase the sight of the two of them sitting there all comfortable next to each other. At least they were keeping their hands to themselves.  
  
Willow lifted her head, her good eye fixing on Buffy. "It was an accident."  
  
Spike snorted with laughter, while Buffy rolled her eyes at her. "You two are just hazards waiting to happen, aren't you? He accidentally bit you, you accidentally slept with him." She shook her head. "What next? Is he accidentally going to kill you?"  
  
"No, I'm not going to--" Spike began angrily, jumping to his feet. "I can bloody well control myself. Been doing it for a few years thanks to this thing," he tapped his temple, "and I'll continue doing it."  
  
Willow groaned at all the yelling, and gestured to the first aid kit. "Does that have aspirin in it?" she asked Giles.  
  
"Oh, uh, yes." He opened it and handed her the bottle. She got unsteadily to her feet and attempted to go to the bathroom for some water, but Buffy pushed her gently back down on the couch. "I'll get it, you rest."  
  
Just before she reached the door, it once again slammed open. Xander stood there, leaning over to catch his breath, pointing behind him. "Guys, I just saw-- Willow!" 


	9. Bonded part 9

Disclaimer: See part 1, or 6.  
  
PART 9  
  
The next afternoon, Willow was ensconced in her bed, with her laptop on her lap, and a snarl on her lips. "Stupid mouse." She shook it unnecessarily, knowing it wouldn't help in the slightest, but feeling better for having done so. She'd gotten lazy lately, used to using an external mouse with her laptop, since most of the time it was on a table, or another flat surface. The small pad on the keyboard wasn't as easy to use anymore, so she tended not to.  
  
And, when one was bedridden-- strike that. When one was forcibly bedridden, using an external mouse could be difficult. And when one was not allowed to so much as cough without someone running in to see if she was okay... well, that got a little frustrating.  
  
She shut the laptop down, yanked the mouse cord from the back, and slammed the top shut, setting both on top of her nightstand. "Stupid laptop." And really, did it stop there? No. "Stupid friends," she added, sitting back with what some might term a pout, but was definitely not a pout. It was more a frustrated pursing of the lips. Or a-- she sighed heavily. Now she was reduced to arguing with herself about her facial expressions.  
  
Seeing someone walk by her open bedroom door, she called out to them. A little company right about now would be great. She sat straighter, propping another pillow behind her back. Actually, it would've been great at anytime over the past twelve hours.  
  
Xander rushed back, stopping in the doorway. He pointed the way he'd been heading, shrugging apologetically. "I was just-- bathroom. Sorry."  
  
Willow's head dropped back on her pillow with a groan.  
  
"Bloody boring, these friends of yours are," Spike said from the doorway.  
  
"Oh," she said happily. "Someone's actually talking to me." Patting the bed beside her, she scooted over with a grin. "Sit. Talk. Please." She'd happily admit she was begging for company if it got her some.  
  
He stayed leaning against the doorjamb, with his arms and ankles crossed. "Why don't you just tell them to bugger off?"  
  
Willow laughed, imagining lining all her friends up and telling them to bugger off. "Yeah, that'd make them leave faster," she scoffed. "Besides, they're only concerned about me. Can't really fault them for that."  
  
"Yes I can," he griped, pushing away from the doorjamb. "Haven't had a minute to myself since they paraded over here. I'm half tempted to go back to my crypt, but I can't seem to make myself give up the soft bed." Stepping further into the room, he glanced about, like he'd never seen it before. Like he hadn't spent several nights in there, in the very bed she was sitting on. The soft bed. Her soft bed, with her in it.  
  
Good thing she had all these really pretty bruises all over her face, otherwise she was sure he'd see the blush stealing across her cheeks. "Any luck?" she asked, placing the books piled beside her on the floor. At his raised eyebrow over his shoulder at her, she clarified, "Finding the cause of the hallucinations."  
  
"Not yet." He lifted the blanket still covering her French doors just a bit. Sunlight flooded across her face, forcing her to squint through her good eye. He dropped the blanket back into place with a sigh. "Although for a minute there, we thought we'd found something. Turned out to be a false alarm since we're not being eaten from the inside out by--"  
  
"Parasites. Yeah, I found that too." She leaned back, watching him pace around the room. "Have there been anymore instances?"  
  
In the twelve hours since being driven home by an overprotective Giles, an overly bossy Buffy, and an overly confused Xander, she hadn't had much time to talk to Spike. Not that there was anything dire she needed to speak to him about, but still it was nice to have the chance to do so if she wanted to. As it was, she was lucky if she got to talk to anyone, let alone someone she wanted to.  
  
Spike shrugged, sitting in her desk chair. "Nobody tells me anything, unless they think I did it."  
  
Ignoring what was most likely a very fundamental truth, she said, "You know, I've been thinking." She glared at the doorway and the distant sounds of voices from downstairs. "I've had plenty of alone time to do just that. But, I was thinking--"  
  
"Excuse me," Xander rudely interrupted from the doorway. "What are you doing in here, Spike?" He gave Willow a sideways look, full of disappointment. "Willow, he's--"  
  
She sighed heavily, once again dropping her head back on her pillow. "A vampire. Evil. Going to kill us all one day. Using me to get to Buffy." She lifted her head, fixing Xander with narrowed eyes. "That about cover it all?"  
  
"Well, yeah," Xander muttered, glaring at Spike when he started laughing. "Shut up."  
  
"Good," Willow told him, then waved her hands at him imperiously. "Go away, we're talking."  
  
Spike snickered a whole heck of a lot at Xander, not bothering to hide his amusement in the least.  
  
"But, Will--" Xander began, frowning when she cut him off.  
  
"Ah-ah! You've had plenty of chances to talk to me, but you were too busy. Now I'm talking to Spike, so go away." Once again, she fluttered her hands at him in a shooing motion, trying very hard not to laugh at Xander's apoplectic look.  
  
He sighed, and slunk out of the room.  
  
Willow laughed aloud at the dejected look on Xander's face. It'd been a while since she'd had anything to laugh about, and it felt good. But, poor Xander. She'd treated him horribly. The next time he came up, she'd apologize to him.  
  
Spike tilted his head toward the door, then stood up and headed for it. Willow, afraid he was leaving, sat up, wincing a little at the pain in her head. "Don't--"  
  
"Not going anywhere," he told her, shutting the door with a soft click before joining her on the bed. He hopped in beside her, stretched his legs out and leaned back. His hand rubbed the back of his head. "Still hurt?"  
  
"Uh-huh. Not bad though, just a little achy. Yours?" It was weird how his aches and pains hadn't healed quickly with his vampire healing. She still hurt, and he still hurt because of her. But he hadn't complained yet. Not to her anyway.  
  
He grabbed the bottle of aspirin off the table by her bed and a glass of water next to it. Popping open the bottle, he shook out a handful, handing three to her, and taking three himself. She dry swallowed them, but took the glass from him gratefully, handing it back after swallowing a healthy gulp or two of water. Setting the water glass and aspirin bottle back on the nightstand, he settled down more comfortably, sliding his arm around her. "Now what were you thinking about?" he inquired.  
  
After a second or two of uncomfortable awkwardness, she relaxed into him, leaning against his chest a little. Her eyes closed of their own volition. He always made her feel so peaceful. Why was that? she wondered, snuggling just the slightest bit.  
  
"Willow?" He shifted to look down at her, shaking her a bit. "What were you thinking about? Before the moron interrupted you?"  
  
She considered slapping him lightly on the chest for calling Xander a moron, but couldn't find the energy to do it. "About the hallucinations." She forced her eyes open, knowing she'd be falling asleep soon if she didn't. "Um, they sort of strike me as more of a distraction than a danger." She sighed heavily, getting a large dose of Spike-scent. Why did he smell so good? He was dead, he should smell dead. Not like coffee and-- "Cinnamon?" she muttered, looking up at him.  
  
"Cinnamon rolls," he confirmed, a small smile creeping up on one side. "Are you sniffing my clothes, love?"  
  
His voice was normal, his eyes clear and bright, yet he made the words sound dirty. She made a face at him. "Can't help it, you reek of cinnamon, which is better than cigarettes. Anything is better than those things."  
  
"Mm," he agreed absently. "Better get used to them. I'm not quitting anytime soon."  
  
Of course he wouldn't. And she hadn't expected him to, still, she'd continue to badger him about it with the hope that he'd get sick of her complaining and drop the habit. "So, the hallucinations," she said, clearing her throat, "I'm thinking spell."  
  
He stretched his neck from side to side until it cracked, then settled further against her. "A spell to what? Annoy people?"  
  
"Maybe," she said, shrugging helplessly. "Or maybe to occupy us. So far it's only happened to me, you, that Jack guy, and Xander. As far as we know... that is all we know, right?" she asked, sitting up. Spike's arm dropped from her shoulders, leaving her in no way feeling bereft.  
  
"That's all I know. I stopped listening after awhile because demon girl was getting on my nerves."  
  
"She does have a tendency to annoy people," Willow agreed, softly rubbing her bruised cheek. The aspirin wasn't working yet, and her whole face was starting to throb. "But, it's not Xander's fault he saw Cordelia. Anya knew he loved her, hello, that's how we met her."  
  
"I almost felt sorry for him," Spike chuckled. "Until I remembered it was funny." He tilted his head to the side, listening, then sat up.  
  
"Someone coming?" she asked, settling back down on the pillows. Let them catch me laying in bed with Spike, she thought rebelliously, maybe they'll realize that, hey, it wasn't any of their business.  
  
"Just the watcher, and he's too stodgy to bust in here and demand I leave." He laid back again, keeping his arms to himself this time.  
  
She wanted him to hold her, to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. To make love-- hold on there. No she didn't. She just wanted comfort from him. Pain had her in its grip and she wanted comfort. That's all.  
  
She shook her head at herself. "Giles isn't 'just' anything," she told him. "He's like a father to me, and a mentor, and-- not the point I was trying to make about the spell." She switched back to the original topic, keeping one eye on the door, just in case Giles did decide to barge in. "Spells have been used before to occupy the adults in town, why not just us? The slayer and her friends?"  
  
"Does this have something to do with candy bars?" he asked.  
  
She looked up at him in surprise. "Yeah, how'd you know?"  
  
"Rupert mentioned it earlier. Something about babies and a demon in the sewers." He laid back, yanking one of the pillows out from under his head and closed his eyes. "Didn't pay a whole lot of attention, heard it all before."  
  
She rolled onto her right side, propping her head up with her hand. Her eyes, as they always seemed to do lately, fixed on Spike. He didn't look any different than he usually did, so why did she feel so differently about him? Was it all the bond's doing? Or had she always felt something for him? Thinking back, she couldn't ever remember a time when she'd felt anything but dislike for him. If she thought about him at all.  
  
Fear was another thing she'd felt when thinking of Spike. Except that night in her dorm room, when he'd tried to cheer her up. She'd been feeling pretty darn low that night... okay, if she was honest with herself, she'd been feeling low since Oz left. That night had only been worse because she'd found Oz's things gone from his dorm room. Knowing he wouldn't be coming back to her, she'd taken it personally.  
  
When Spike showed up and tried to bite her, then couldn't, she'd taken that personally as well. Not even a vampire wanted her. To kill, but still, she'd been convinced it was because she was un-biteable. Unattractive. Unwanted. Spike assured her otherwise, even remembered the sweater she was wearing the night he kidnaped her and Xander for the love spell. His words had taken the sting out of what she'd perceived as his rejection of her. She'd even calmed enough to return the favor, feeling a small sense of kinship, but as soon as she remembered who he was, she'd gone back to disliking him. The sympathy had reappeared the time he tried to dust himself in Xander's basement, but that was only pity. Then back to the disliking.  
  
That was changing though, and the more time she spent with him, the more she grew to like him. Was that so horrible? She was bound to him, had to live near him for the rest of their lives, and according to the book, it would be a long life indeed. Humans bonded to vampires shared their somewhat immortality. She was going to live a very long time.  
  
Maybe even centuries. Oh boy. That was a daunting thought. Outliving everyone she knew, everyone she loved. She was essentially a vampire without the bad parts. No blood drinking, no killing tendencies, and no aversions to sunlight, crosses, garlic or anything else vampires should avoid.  
  
"I'm immortal," she whispered to herself, trying out the word for the first time.  
  
She shivered lightly when Spike's eyes opened, focusing on her lips before moving up to her eyes. "Just now realizing that?" he asked softly. His eyes dropped to her lips again before sliding closed.  
  
"Uh-huh," she mumbled distractedly, leaning down to press her lips against his before realizing what she was doing. Jerking back before she touched him, she was startled to feel his hand on the back of her head, halting her retreat. Her eyes shot back down to his, finding them still closed. With a light, gentle touch on her head, he forced her to do what she'd wanted to do in the first place. She reached up to touch his cheek before settling her lips softly against his.  
  
It was a light kiss, pleasant and arousing. Unfortunately, her face hurt too much to go any further, and his stomach, still with a stake-sized hole in it, wouldn't allow for more entertaining pastimes. Still, the kissing was nice, and she'd continue to do that until she was forced to stop.  
  
A knock sounded on the door, forcing her to halt way sooner than she wanted to. They sighed into each other's mouths, chuckling at the annoyance in both their voices. She pulled away, dropping to the pillow behind her.  
  
"Come in," she called, hoping her face wasn't as flushed as it felt.  
  
The door opened slowly, almost as if whoever was opening it thought they were going to find hastily dressing people inside. "Um, Willow?" Buffy called, halting the door halfway open, and not coming inside. "Can I come in?"  
  
Willow sat up, ignoring the smirk on Spike's lips. Lips that tasted really good. Lips that she wanted to taste again, and soon. "Sure. We're not naked anymore."  
  
Spike burst out laughing as the door slammed all the way open. Buffy took two hasty steps inside before coming to a halt when she saw them on the bed together, fully clothed and looking un-rumpled. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, and sighed, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Funny."  
  
"I thought so," Willow laughed, wincing at the pain in her face. Both her and Spike reach up to touch their faces. "Ow," she mumbled. "How many aspirin can you take before it becomes a problem?" she asked idly. Seeing Buffy still standing there, unmoving, looking everywhere but at the bed, she threw the covers off of herself, scooted to the end of the bed rather than climbing over Spike, and stood up, fully clothed in her favorite flannel pajamas.  
  
"Where are you going?" Buffy asked sternly. "Bed rest for twenty four hours, remember? You promised."  
  
Willow needed to get away from Spike, she was having a hard enough time thinking without him sitting there all sexy and tasty. Besides, it was obvious Buffy didn't feel comfortable with either of them when they were together. So, instead of talking there with him, or making him leave, she figured Buffy could accompany her to the bathroom while she took a bath.  
  
"I need a bath, you want to talk. Two birds, one stone."  
  
"Oh, hey," Spike said, jumping to his feet. "Can I join ya?" Both girls tossed Spike a withering glare and he shrugged, holding his hands up innocently. "What? You expected me not to ask? Please," he scoffed, shaking his head as he left the room.  
  
Willow was busy gathering clean clothes when something occurred to her. She turned around with her hands on her hips, glaring at Buffy. "How come no one brought me a cinnamon roll?" This time there was a definite pout on her lips.  
  
  
  
Spike took the stairs two at a time, announcing his presence to the people in the living room long before actually reaching it. Xander, sitting on the couch with a book on his lap, pointedly ignored him, while Giles simply glanced up and went back to his own book. Dawn, the only other occupant in the room, jumped up and followed him into the kitchen.  
  
Truthfully he didn't mind so much that she followed him around, it felt rather good to be idolized. If he couldn't have her fear, he'd have to make do with her worship.  
  
While going through the hated ritual of warming up a bag of blood for his dinner, he tossed her a curious look. "Something on your mind?"  
  
"Sort of." Dropping into one of the wooden chairs circling the round table, she pointed to the microwave, which held his blood. "Why are you still eating that stuff when you can kill again?"  
  
"You want me to go out and kill someone?" he asked in mock surprise, hiding his grin at the stricken look on the girl's face.  
  
"I didn't mean--" she immediately started to protest.  
  
"I know what you meant," he chuckled as the microwave beeped. Taking out his steaming cup of pig's blood, he joined her at the table, spinning his chair around and straddling it, comforting himself with the thought that as soon as both he and Willow were better, he'd be hunting humans again. Just as soon. Which meant he needed to get some more blood, as this was the last of it. "Willow's hurt," he explained, looking at her over the rim of the cup. "If I hunt-- with no killing," he stressed, when she immediately opened her mouth to say something, "then she'll get the pain from the implant. Don't wanna hurt her anymore than she already is," he admitted, calling himself all sorts of pansy.  
  
She nodded, looking at him and then her hands. "You slept with her." There was no accusation in her voice, but it was there in the way her eyes wouldn't exactly meet his, and the way her thumb traced along the edge of the table. "I-- I thought you loved Buffy." And in her words.  
  
Spike sighed, not wanting to get into a deep discussion about the intricacies of love with Buffy's sister. He kept silent, watching her steadily. Wrapping his cold hands around the mug, he let the warmth seep into his palms as steam curled lazily up from inside. He blew on it absently, wondering what Willow and Buffy were talking about. Him? Or more specifically, him and the bond, and possible ways to get out of it?  
  
This merry band of Slayerettes didn't easily give up on things they thought needed changing. Even if the people involved didn't want things to return to normal. Or at least one person involved.  
  
Hearing the water turn on upstairs, he glanced at the ceiling, forcing himself to keep his thoughts well away from a naked, wet Willow. A sigh escaped him at what he was reduced to. Something about Willow had gotten under his skin these past few days, and he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her. That small kiss upstairs before Buffy interrupted them hadn't been leading anywhere important, not with both of them too sore to do anything, but it hadn't exactly satisfied him either. He'd still be up there using his mouth in ingenious ways if he had his druthers.  
  
"It doesn't just go away," Dawn said, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
If he hadn't known she was talking about loving Buffy, he'd think she had some eerie insights into his thoughts on Willow. But, no, she was still stuck on the love thing.  
  
Now she was looking him in the eye. "At least, it doesn't just go away for humans. Maybe vampires are different," she mused spitefully. "Maybe they're--"  
  
Spike turned narrowed eyes her way and leaned forward. "I like you, Dawn, but I'm only saying this once; stay out of it, it's none of your business." Seeing the flash of hurt on her face, and hating himself for even caring, he softened his tone, trying to explain himself. To a kid, he scoffed silently. "It's a little more complicated than that, all right? I never wanted to love Buffy. It's not hunky-dory fun when the person you care about detests you, so, don't blame me for trying to move on."  
  
She nodded, somewhat mollified, but not willing to completely drop the subject. She was stubborn, just like Buffy. "So, Willow's just a distraction for you. A replacement." She sat forward, narrowing her eyes at him. Him, for Christ's sake. "Are you using her?"  
  
"Dawn," Buffy said from the doorway, drawing their attention. "Go."  
  
"Where?" the younger girl asked, turning her glare from him to Buffy. "You won't let me go to Janice's, and--"  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes with a sigh. "When I actually am trying to get rid of you, that's when you don't realize it? Living room," she ordered. "Now."  
  
"Hey!" Dawn jumped to her feet, glaring at Buffy from across the room. "I have just as much right to be here as you."  
  
Buffy stalked closer, her arms crossed over her chest, annoyance written plainly across her face. "No, you don't, Dawn. You're not a part of the team, you're a relative of one of the members of the team."  
  
Spike ignored the bickering girls, preferring to sit and sip at his blood rather than involve himself in another one of their arguments. In fact, as he downed the rest of his blood, he decided he'd just leave. The room, not the house. Couldn't leave the house until sunset, which couldn't come soon enough for him. He stood up as unobtrusively as he could, a little surprised when neither one noticed. Once out of the kitchen, he chose his recent favorite seat, the steps to the upstairs. A few minutes later, Dawn flounced past him, glaring and huffing at Buffy who stood in the doorway to the kitchen.  
  
Giles, sighing heavily as he watched Dawn stomp up the steps, set his book down with a yawn. "Did Willow find anything on her laptop?" he asked. Whether the question was aimed at him or Buffy, Spike didn't know, but he answered anyway.  
  
"She thinks it might be a spell for someone to distract us. Well, you all. Mentioned that candy thing too, but thought it may be aimed only at your little group this time."  
  
"Sort of like the Litchock did with the bond," Buffy said thoughtfully. "Oh, hey. What if it's the Litchock doing it?" She pushed away from the doorjamb and sat on the couch, facing Giles. "But, if it is, what's with all the distraction tactics?"  
  
Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "That would make sense, wouldn't it? If the Litchock wasn't dead."  
  
"Wait. It's dead?" Buffy asked angrily. "Just... thought you'd throw that little detail in too when deciding what not to tell me?" She sat back with a huff. "I'm supposed to be the one in the know. Now I'm... know-less."  
  
"Who says the one Willow and Spike found was the same one we fought? Or the only one in town?" Xander asked with a shrug. "Not all demons are loners, right? So, say there's a whole gang of them in town, trying to distract us for some reason."  
  
"But why? What could they be after?" Buffy asked, looking to Giles. "Ideas?"  
  
He shook his head with a sigh. "It could be anything. The one in the cemetery that night, it attacked you first?"  
  
Spike stretched his left leg out, pulling a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, fishing one out. He was almost out, he'd have to pick up some more. Blood and smokes. And if he had to put up with these guys any longer, he'd also be getting some alcohol. "It attacked me first," he muttered around the cigarette, searching his pockets for his Zippo. Where the hell was it? "I ran into these guys while chasing it," he explained, "but yeah, it attacked first."  
  
"Attacked a vampire. Without provocation?" Giles pressed, grabbing a book from the table in front of him and flipping through it.  
  
"Yeah, I just said that didn't I?" he snarled, still searching for his lighter, and coming up with nothing. Stomping up the stairs, he pushed open Willow's bedroom door to see if it was in there. Dawn was sitting on the chair by the desk, reading a book.  
  
She looked up when he came in and started tossing the sheets and blankets to the floor. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Lost my lighter," he said absently, lifting the pillows and tossing them to the floor.  
  
"And it'd be in Willow's bed, why? You had it earlier-- ew! We were all downstairs, and you and Willow were in here having sex?" She twisted her face up in disgust, looking like she wanted to dart from the room.  
  
"Hey, gutter brain," he said with a sigh, "neither one of us is in any shape to do anything. We were just talking." Opening the drawer in her nightstand on a hunch, he found what he was looking for. "How'd it get in there?" he asked, turning a suspicious look on Dawn.  
  
"I don't know," she said with a shrug, going back to her book. "Ask Willow." When he left the room to do just that, she yelled, "I meant when she was done!"  
  
He chuckled at the panic in her voice, and headed toward the bathroom. The door was locked, which didn't surprise him. Instead of breaking the lock and storming inside, he knocked lightly on the door.  
  
"Who is it?" Willow called after a few seconds. She sounded half asleep.  
  
"Me. Let me in." He waited patiently for her to climb out of the tub, probably pull on a robe, or wrap a towel around herself to cover up her nakedness. Her wet nakedness. Slick with water, skin dripping droplets of hot, soapy--  
  
"Bloody hell," he groaned, shoving the thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. Not when he couldn't do anything about them. And why the hell wasn't she opening the door already? "Willow. Open the door."  
  
"Um, no. I'm taking a bath," she said slowly, as if he was five and she was explaining mommy's 'alone time' to him.  
  
Instead of getting angry, he shifted from one foot to the other, crossing his arms over his chest. "All the more reason to let me in." Satisfaction shot through him when he heard her sharp intake of breath which was almost covered by the sound of her rapidly beating heart.  
  
"Yeah," she scoffed to herself, obviously not thinking he could hear her, "if I let you in, there'd be less cleanliness and a whole lot more dirtiness."  
  
Spike chuckled in amusement and reached out, snapping the flimsy lock on the door. There was a large splash as he went into the steam-filled room, and a gasp of surprise.  
  
"Spike," she hissed, looking frantically around for something to cover herself with. "Get out of here. Buffy'll kill you, and I can't really blame her at the moment," she said pointedly, finally settling for grabbing the clear plastic shower curtain and holding it in front of herself. Her wide, panicked eyes only served to amuse him more.  
  
She was acting like quite the modest virgin. Pointedly ignoring her demands to leave, and her embarrassment, he leaned back against the door, his eyes skimming along the little he could see of her. Her left leg, bent at the knee and crossed over her right one, a hand covering her breasts, which were currently underwater, and obscured by the plastic shower curtain.  
  
"Modesty now?" he muttered, digging his lighter from his front jean pocket. Holding it up between two fingers, he tilted his head toward her. "Wanna tell me how this got into your nightstand?" He pushed away from the door, moving toward her, making sure she saw him rake his eyes over everything she thought she was hiding in there. "I told you I'm not quitting." Stopping at the edge of the tub, he knelt down, gripping the edge of the white porcelain, and leaning quite close to her. Her face--her mouth--was mere inches from his own. His eyes dropped to those tempting lips and he forgot what he wanted to say.  
  
Her own eyes were on his mouth as she sat silently watching. Waiting? She opened her mouth, parting those lips he wanted so badly to taste, and drew in a shuddering breath. A drop of water slid down her shoulder from her dripping hair, which was slicked back, away from her face. The bruises covering the entire left side of her face were even more visible with no hair to obscure them. They were darkening, making her face appear shadowed with a rainbow of colors. Multi-colored, that's what she was.  
  
She dragged in another breath, bringing attention to her chest, which, had he not already been fascinated by her bruised face and tempting lips, he might've already been observing.  
  
"Spike..." she whispered, her eyes dark with want and need. "What--"  
  
He shoved himself away from the tub, spinning around as he stood. "My lighter," he said, almost desperately, reminding himself as well as Willow of why he was there. "Don't take it again." Resisting the urge to turn back and look his fill, to grab her and yank her out of the tub and wrap his arms around her dripping body as he laid her on the tiled floor, he put one foot in front of the other until he reached the door. "I'm going to Willy's," he added, twisting the doorknob harder than necessary, and hurrying out into the hall. Once out there, he slammed the door shut and leaned back against it, taking a deep breath. His hand moved down to place his lighter back into his pocket, but ended up adjusting his tight pants instead. Staying where he was for a few minutes was probably a really good idea. 


	10. Bonded part 10

Disclaimer: See part 1, or 6.  
  
PART 10  
  
Spike yanked open the door to Willy's and strode in like he owned the place, and several more just like it. A few vampires turned to look at him, but most just ignored the new patron. Once the curious ones saw who it was, they went back to their drinks, uninterested. It galled him no end that the demons in Willy's dive were unafraid of him. Unaware that he had his bite back. Mostly.  
  
They'd find out soon enough though, oh yeah. And that day would be fine. As long as he didn't kill anyone. He'd definitely do some biting though, and a lot of feeding. A smirk crossed his lips at the thought. The smirk died almost immediately. This is what I've been reduced to, he thought. Putting on a show for the other demons just to get a little bit of the respect he deserved. Deserved, damn it! He was a bloody evil vampire, feared by many, hated by all.  
  
Except Dawn. And Willow. Joyce had kind of tolerated him as well, but-- ah, Christ.  
  
Dropping onto a stool at the bar, he waited until Willy deigned to notice him and saunter over. His fury roiled inside him at Willy's dismissal of him. Maybe this then was his victim. Feeding only, not killing. Pity, that.  
  
"Spike," Willy said loudly, glancing around nervously. "Where, uh, where's the Slayer? She with you?"  
  
Spike glared at the weasel-y little man, seriously wondering if Willow could stand just a little more pain. Just enough for him to punch that smug look off of Willy's face. Instead of finding out, he continued to stare at Willy, making him squirm just a little. When he'd had enough of that, he inhaled deeply and looked around as if he had all the time in the world. "Beer."  
  
Willy grabbed a mug from the shelf behind him and filled it with cheap, watered down beer, then set the dripping mug down on a napkin in front of Spike. "Three fifty," he told Spike, not making a move to leave.  
  
Like Spike didn't pay for his drinks when he came here. Well, okay, mostly he didn't. But he was offended nonetheless.  
  
"I'd also like ten bags of blood. And, uh, make it human." Pulling a wad of cash from his back pocket, he counted out the bills, placing a hundred on the bar beside his beer. Willy's eyes were glued to the cash, Spike knew. Didn't even have to look up to see those beady eyes locked on the green bills on the bar. He counted out another fifty and set it on top of the hundred. When Willy's hand darted out to take the money, Spike slapped his hand down over Willy's.  
  
His vow not to hurt anyone went out the window when Willy only sighed and tried to take the money anyway. He tightened his hand on Willy's, digging his fingernails into the man's flesh, making sure it hurt, a lot, but not enough for Willow to send a stake his way. He kept his eyes fixed on Willy's face, watching, waiting for the second when he realized Spike wasn't in pain. And it was worth it.  
  
Willy's eyes slid slowly, almost dreadfully, from the money to Spike's face. An audible gulp could be heard in the suddenly quiet bar. Fear poured off the man, mingling with the smell of his sweat and other things Spike would rather not identify. Fear that he'd caused. Spike was back, and now everyone knew it. Everyone in the bar anyway. Wouldn't be long before the whole town knew as well.  
  
"S-- Spike," Willy chuckled, trying to pull his hand free. "You've got your bite back."  
  
Spike nodded, loosening his grip only when Willy let go of the bills on the counter. "Yeah, I do." He stood up, leaning forward menacingly. "Wanna be my first kill?" he asked, vamping out with a grin. "First of the night, that is."  
  
"No, no," Willy said, backing away, bumping into the shelf behind him and setting glasses and bottles to rattling. "I'd prefer not to die, but thanks for the offer. Means a lot," he assured Spike, nodding for emphasis.  
  
Spike morphed his face back to normal and sat back down, slapping his hand over the money jovially. "Too bad. What say you get that blood then, huh? Gotta keep up appearances for the Slayer and her gang, don't I? Can't let her in on it too soon. Got plans for them." If the demons had any idea that the biggest plan on his mind at the moment was how to make Willow fall in love with him, they'd probably already be planning his lynching.  
  
"Human blood," Willy mumbled, rushing off to the back room to get it. "Coming right up," he laughed, like they were two friends, out celebrating a kill.  
  
Sighing heavily, Spike spun around on his stool, staring down every last one of the vampires and demons gawking at him. Standing up, he clapped his hands loudly, and rubbed them together. "So. William the Bloody is back, kiddies," he told them eagerly, enjoying the respect and fear this news generated. Noticing one occupant in a booth not paying attention to him, Spike stalked over there, grabbed the vampire by his long blond hair and slammed his face onto the filthy table in front of him. A bowl of peanuts went skittering across the surface, landing in the lap of the booth's other occupant. She stared wide eyed at her companion as blood flowed freely from his now broken nose.  
  
"Pay... attention," he chided.  
  
"Sorry," the vampire mumbled back, trying to stem the tide of blood from his broken nose which only ended up smearing it across his whole face. "I-- I didn't realize..."  
  
Spike shrugged, dropping the vampire with a chuckle. "That Spike was talking?" He turned away, walking a few feet closer to the bar, nodding thoughtfully. A gracious smile lit his lips. "I'll forgive you this time." He took the stake from his duster pocket and paced back over to the vampire. No one in the place, including his companion, warned him. There was silence, except for the scuff of Spike's boots as he grabbed the bleeding vampire by his shirt and yanked him to his feet.  
  
The relieved smile on his bloody face turned sickly when Spike plunged the stake into his heart. "Changed my mind," Spike said, shrugging apologetically as the vampire's dust littered the floor, covering Spike's pants and boots. "Damn it," he muttered, brushing himself off. He looked and sounded irritated, but when his head rose up, there was a feral grin there, and not one of the creatures in Willy's doubted that Spike was whole again.  
  
Willy, who had been standing in the doorway to the store room, watching the scene unfold, pushed forward, holding a small box. He carried it behind the bar and hefted it up beside Spike. His eyes once again shot from the money to Spike, waiting for permission before reaching for it.  
  
"Well don't just stand there," Spike told him, waving his hand at Willy. "Go get my change."  
  
Willy stared down at the hundred and fifty in his hands, and swallowed. Hard. "Uh, Spike... there's no change. In fact, there's not enough here to cover the blood. You're twenty short--"  
  
Spike's eyes slid dangerously to Willy, daring him to finish that sentence. He had the money to pay for the blood, and they both knew it. In fact, Spike would wager that every last demon in the place knew about the wad of cash in his pocket, but a little theft wasn't beyond him. He quite enjoyed it actually. And the fear on Willy's face was beyond worth it. He'd missed this. Instilling fear in humans and respect in the other demons. The whole night was turning out to be a hell of a lot of fun.  
  
"I'll, uh, have your change in just a..." he trailed off, leaving to get money from the cash register.  
  
Spike idly wondered how much the man would feel safe in giving him back.  
  
Five? Spike scoffed silently, raising his eyes from the five dollar bill Willy had shoved in front of him. He shrugged, sticking it into his pocket with the rest of the pilfered money he'd taken off the drunk woman the night he fed. The night of his first taste of warm, pumping human blood in two years.  
  
Willy sighed in relief, leaning against the bar for a second before pushing away and attempting to flee.  
  
"Ah-ah-ah!" Spike said impatiently, standing up and grabbing the man by the back of his shirt, yanking him back in front of the box of blood. "I'm not done yet." Letting go only when he was sure Willy wasn't going to take off again, he sat back down. "There's a demon been hanging around. Maybe more than one. I want to know why."  
  
"Still doing the Slayer's work?" a southern accented demon said from a few seats down, his long brown tentacles fluttering above his mug of beer as he sneered Spike. The white ten gallon hat on his head was pushed back with a third tentacle as he turned to face the vampire. "You're still whipped, boy."  
  
Spike was extremely proud of himself for not jumping up and picking a fight with the Tarlafug demon, since he'd most likely lose. Tarlafug's were nearly invincible, unless you had a steel-bladed sword blessed with holy water to decapitate it with. Spike didn't have anything steel on him, and definitely no sword, so he spared the demon not a glance.  
  
"Litchock demons," Spike clarified for Willy, snapping the bartender's attention back to him. "What do you know?"  
  
Willy gestured to the bar behind Spike. "They can tell you whatever you want." He sniffed and leaned closer. "These Litchock guys aren't well loved by the vampires in town."  
  
"They've been killing us off," someone said from across the room.  
  
"Not even bothering to see if they've got the right one before killing us," another said. "It's sick."  
  
Spike chuckled at the disgust in the vampire's voice and once again turned on his stool. Facing the room of mostly vampires, he was surprised to see them all nodding and agreeing with each other, discussing the Litchocks. "What do they want?" he called above the din. Realizing they were all too riled up and getting angrier by the second as they talked about the Litchock demons, he turned back to Willy. "What's going on with the Litchock?"  
  
Willy leaned his elbows on the bar, looking like he was back in his element since the attention of most everyone was currently off of him. Spike wanted explanations, therefore he probably wouldn't be killing him anytime soon. "There's a big uprising in the ranks of the Litchock. They've got this... hierarchy, like the British Royals or something. But lately, there's been insurrection in the ranks, and the current king is dying."  
  
Spike nodded thoughtfully. "So the successor, most likely a son--always is the males in these things--isn't going to make it to power?" Great, a big bloody war in Sunnydale. Why couldn't these things take place in cities like Tulsa, or Albany?  
  
"Right," Willy agreed, as animated as he always was when something bad was going to happen. "The rival family kidnaped the son. Soldiers and guards from the king's family followed their trail straight to Sunnydale." Pausing, he reached behind him for a mug, and filled it with beer, taking a healthy swig of the foamy liquid. "I'll give you one guess what was hired to take the kid."  
  
Spike watched him wipe his mouth off with his sleeve and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man was just... dirty. "A vampire," he guessed, hardly paying attention to Willy's nod. "Why bring the kid here though? Why not just kill him?"  
  
Willy threw his head back with a laugh, his whiny, nasally voice sending shudders down Spike's spine. "See, that's the thing. Against themselves, they're peaceful. It's only other species they kill. They brought the brat here to keep him from receiving the power when the king kicks the bucket. As soon as power is transferred to the one they want in power, the son'll be returned, unharmed." He shrugged, taking another gulp of his beer.  
  
"Hence the vampire population being gunned down," Spike said thoughtfully. If this was true, then he needed to get to the others, let them know what was brewing right under their noses. Feeling generous, Spike downed his beer, picked up his box of bagged human blood and tossed a twenty on the counter. That just about covered his tab for the night.  
  
"Thanks, Spike," Willy gushed, practically salivating on the twenty.  
  
"Mm," was Spike's only reply.  
  
The Tarlafug spun around as Spike passed him, leaning his tentacles back on the bar like a cowboy of old as he tipped his hat back. "No hard feelings, friend? Didn't know it was the vampire killers you were after."  
  
Spike shrugged, unconcerned with the Tarlafug. The demon waited patiently for Spike to acknowledge his apology. Ignoring the demon's outstretched tentacle, Spike shoved the box under his right arm and left Willy's behind.  
  
  
  
Dragging her sore, tired body down the stairs was a lot harder than she'd imagined it would be, but Willow was never one to give up easily. She stopped halfway down the stairs and waited for the pain in her head to subside, muttering all the curse words she knew at the Cher-wannabe. That actually left a lot to be desired, but she didn't care, she just repeated some of the harsher ones and then continued gingerly down the steps.  
  
Everyone in the living room looked up as she came down the last step. She stood there, trying to figure out whether or not she should collapse on the couch, or the last remaining chair. The couch was closest, so she slowly moved toward it. Xander's legs proved to be the biggest obstacle, but they were quickly removed.  
  
"You don't look so good," he told her, not unkindly. His face showed only concern, and she really couldn't fault him for that.  
  
She was concerned about herself. If she kept having Spike thoughts--naughty, naked, want-him-in-a-bad-way thoughts--they'd have to lock her away and slap a Dunce cap on her head. Spike didn't care about her. He only wanted her blood, and a roll in the hay. Though, sometimes he could be really sweet, she didn't fool herself into thinking this was anything but an attempt to get into her good graces.  
  
Giving him the benefit of the doubt was a really hard thing to do when she knew of his past. Had been a painful part of that past.  
  
Sighing gratefully, she leaned her head back, closing her eyes in relief. She probably should've stayed upstairs, but boredom had settled over her once again after her bath. With Spike gone, it was just no fun. So she'd gotten dressed and headed out of her room after downing a handful of aspirin, heading to the living room. To her friends. She opened her eyes, glancing around lazily. They were staring at her. All four of them.  
  
"I'm fine," she told them, sitting up straighter. It almost killed her, but she was able to paint a decent picture of a healthy girl sitting amongst her friends.  
  
Dawn, sitting beside Xander on the floor, leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. Willow ignored both her and Xander when they glanced over. She chose instead to concentrate on reading the book in front of her... just as soon as she leaned forward to grab it and put it on her lap. Easier said than done. Her head pounded painfully, her pulse throbbing loudly in her ears until she thought her brain had to explode under the pressure. Thankfully, it didn't. Only throbbed less when she yanked the aged brown tome off the table and onto her lap. Just as planned.  
  
"Oh. Willow, do be careful," Giles chided. "That book's over a century old and quite rare." He smiled to show he wasn't being angry, just priggish.  
  
Willow nodded, darting a quick look Xander's way. Still watching her. "Guys? What are we researching?" she asked the room in general as she flipped through her hard won book.  
  
"The Litchock," Buffy answered, closing her own book with a thump. She turned sideways on the couch, lifting one leg up, so she could face Willow. "That stuff you told Spike earlier, about it trying to distract us? Well, the spell being to distract us... what if it was the Litchock? Or, since maybe that one's dead, another one."  
  
"And," Giles added, pushing his glasses further up on his nose, "if so, why are they here? Why are they trying to distract us?"  
  
"Yeah," Dawn said, "why didn't it just kill you outright?" Her head shot up when silence fell. Four sets of eyes were fixed on her face in disbelief. "N--- not that I wanted it to. I'm just saying." She shrugged a little uncomfortably.  
  
"So you're thinking there's a whole mess of 'em here for some reason? A Hellmouth-y reason?" Willow asked. Figures, she thought, sighing. Nothing can ever be just plain old dumb luck. Just an accident. Had to be a reason behind everyone's actions in this town.  
  
"Oh, ooo, ooo," Xander called out, gesturing to them as he stood up with his book. "I found something. Good news. The best." He dropped the opened book on the table and grinned at them all. "The bond can be reversed. *If*," he stressed, holding up a finger to quiet them all down, "if we can find the same demon that cast the spell." He clapped his hands together loudly, turning to Giles. "It's possible the one Willow and D.B. Junior found wasn't the same one, right? Of course, it is," he answered, too excited to listen to any naysayers.  
  
Giles grabbed the book from the table while Buffy and Dawn crowded around his chair to read over his shoulders. Excited chatter floated around the room, only one voice missing, though no one noticed in their own happiness.  
  
Willow was still on the couch, still had her book in her lap, staring at the curtained window across from her, trying to figure out how she felt about this news. It was possible to be free of the bond. Not a definite, but a definite possibility. She could be free of Spike. The small part of her heart that had come to care for him halted its beating for a few precious seconds, forcing her to take notice. The other part of her heart resumed its normal beating, overriding the caring part.  
  
No joy shot through her at the thought of life going back to what passed for normal in their lives. No excitement and happiness. Nothing but an emptiness that was quickly settling over her. She didn't want to give up this thing she and Spike had. She wanted to see where it went, what would happen. In spite of his pain giving her a headache. Even after the thing in the bathroom, or maybe because of the thing in the bathroom.  
  
Having trouble seeing, since she'd been staring unblinkingly at the window, she closed her eyes to relieve the dryness.  
  
She felt someone sit next to her, taking her hand in their own. Large, male, had to be Xander. She opened her eyes with a forced smile, trying to put as much happiness as she could into her face. "This is... good news," she whispered.  
  
"Is it?" His solemn eyes gazed into hers, searching for something, but she couldn't be sure what.  
  
"Yeah." She nodded for emphasis, widening her smile until her cheeks started to hurt. "It is."  
  
He leaned closer, glancing over at the trio around Giles' chair. "Dawn said Spike went into the bathroom while you were taking a bath." His jaw clenched tightly, but he held back on the anger and judgement for the time being. "You don't... like him do you? I mean, in a strictly non-friendly way."  
  
She considered lying, considered not telling him that Spike had, in a very short time, come to mean a lot to her. "Yes, I do," she said truthfully, placing her hand over his clenched fist. "Xander, I wouldn't have slept with him unless I cared a little. I--"  
  
"What?" Xander yelled, jumping to his feet. "You slept with him? You--" he turned away angrily, kicking at the coffee table, sending books and papers soaring across the room.  
  
"Oh, dear Lord," Giles muttered, frowning at Willow.  
  
Silence descended, as Xander stormed away from her. Buffy, who'd jumped up at the ready, relaxed slightly, giving Willow a sympathetic look.  
  
"We didn't tell you for this very reason," Giles told Xander, who was pacing in front of the stairway. When Xander only glared at him, Giles stood up angrily. "Calm down," he ordered. "Remember, if you hurt Spike, you hurt Willow, so don't even think about going after him again."  
  
Dawn stood across the room, nervously tugging at her hands. "I-- I'm sorry. I thought Xander knew. I thought he *knew*." She chuckled humorlessly, her bitterness for Buffy showing through. "I figured, if I knew, everyone else had to know already."  
  
"It's not your fault," Willow sighed, getting to her feet. "I'm the one who told him. You just... helped me along a little." She smiled reassuringly, but the smile died when Dawn suddenly frowned angrily.  
  
"Wait," she said huffily, swinging toward Giles. "What do you mean, 'hurt him again'? Xander hurt Spike?"  
  
Buffy groaned, letting her head drop back in exasperation. "Dawn, I didn't tell you that part because I knew you'd be upset, and--"  
  
"Upset?" Dawn repeated incredulously. "You're darn right I'm upset. But not because you didn't tell me. I'm pissed at Xander for hurting Spike. He had no right--"  
  
Xander, for the first time that any of them could remember, turned to Dawn and told her sternly, "Stay out of this. You don't know-- what that monster does isn't just something you can shrug off because he's leashed by a piece of whatever."  
  
Dawn crossed her arms over her chest, huffing some more. "I know. I know what he is."  
  
Xander crossed the room to stand in front of her. "No you don't, Dawn. Look at Willow, that is what Spike does to people. Only, they're usually a lot less living when he's through with them."  
  
"Xander," Willow said tersely, seeing Dawn's frown and the tears in her eyes. Willow was furious him, and the whole situation and everyone involved in it. "Leave her alone."  
  
"Xander," Buffy warned him, "stop it. You're scaring her."  
  
"Good," Xander shouted. "Because someone needs to. Spike is a killer, same as every other vampire out there. Same as Angel," he said spitefully. "I'm just trying to make her realize it before it's too late."  
  
"I get it," Dawn whispered through her tears. She stared hard at Xander for a few seconds before running past him, up the stairs.  
  
Buffy sighed and went after her. "Thank you, Xander. That was very helpful," she tossed over her shoulder angrily.  
  
Willow glared at Xander, who looked back at her steadily, his eyes hard and unyielding.  
  
"You know, I bet Anya would like some company at the store right about now," Willow told him.  
  
Giles' eyebrows rose at her harsh tone, but she didn't take it back. Xander chuckled without amusement. "Trying to get rid of me, Willow?"  
  
"Yes," she answered, sitting back down on the couch before she collapsed. Forget aspirin, she thought, rubbing her aching head, I need a nice Morphine drip.  
  
Giles headed into the kitchen while Xander continued to glare at Willow. She had her eyes closed, but she could feel him watching her, knew he was trying to figure her out. Figure out how she could care about a soulless demon. Sleep with a soulless demon. Well, she thought, being a little petty, I just can, so there.  
  
After a few minutes, Giles returned with a steaming cup of hot tea, handing it to her with a sympathetic look. She took it gratefully just as Buffy and Dawn came back downstairs. Dawn was still grumpy and obviously pouting, as she looked everywhere but at Xander. Buffy sighed, shaking her head despairingly, sharing a small smile with Willow.  
  
"I have to patrol. Dawn," she said sternly, turning to her sister, "be good. Xander," her voice was much harsher than it had been just seconds earlier, "come on."  
  
Giles sighed, kneeling down to pick up the books and papers on the floor. "Be careful. And keep an eye out for the Litchock."  
  
"Will do," Buffy called back, dragging Xander to the door. Just as they reached the foyer, the door swung open, emitting a grinning Spike striding straight into Buffy.  
  
He reached out to steady her with one hand, then moved further into the room, dropping the box in his other hand on the floor. "I just found out there's a whole bunch of-- hey!" he yelled, when Xander pushed him back against the closet doors. "Hands off, mate, you're gonna hurt the girl."  
  
Xander loosened his grip on Spike's duster with a quick glance at Willow to see if she was all right, then turned back to Spike, who wasn't resisting at all.  
  
Buffy grabbed Xander's arm, trying to pry him away from Spike, but Xander kept his hold, not giving another inch. "Xander, don't you hurt them," she ground out through clenched teeth, holding back on hurting Xander.  
  
"I warned you, Xander--" Giles began, starting toward them. "Let him go."  
  
Dawn was standing a few feet away, looking ready to start crying again at any moment, but she was standing strong. Willow was proud of her, especially when she finally rushed toward the others, intending to help pull Xander from Spike. Willow herself kept quiet, bracing herself for the pain she knew was coming. She couldn't resist turning sideways to watch, knowing that if the other three couldn't pry Xander away from Spike, then she didn't have a prayer either. So she stayed seated, watching Spike. Waiting for the first sign of violence from him.  
  
He stood tall, not backing down at the threat or fury in Xander's face, eyes, and posture. It was all over Xander, the restraint he was using to keep from hurting Willow. But it was also in Spike. As Xander's hands clenched tightly into the leather of Spike's duster, Spike's hands clenched into fists at his sides. As Xander glowered at Spike, Spike sneered back.  
  
"Guess what?" Xander said harshly. "We found a way to reverse the bond, and just as soon as we find the Litchock that cast the spell, we'll break the bond." A smile curled Xander's lips, a truly menacing look accompanying it. "And then I'm coming after you."  
  
Spike's eyes shot to Willow's at the news. She tried to figure out whether he was happy at the chance of being free of her, but his face was blank, not one iota of emotion on there. He turned back to Xander, ignoring everyone else in the room, and let his face change. "Get the bloody hell off of me," he snarled, reaching up with his arms to break Xander's suddenly loose hold. He pushed away from the wall, getting in Xander's face. "Bring it on, Harris," he said softly, and not one person in the room mistook the hostility in his voice for anything less than what it was.  
  
Willow, tired, sore, and sick of all of her friends, stood up and trudged slowly up the stairs. "You can all leave now," she called over her shoulder. Pushing open her bedroom door, she listened for the sound of the front door closing, and breathed a sigh of relief when it finally did. Not bothering to see who left, and who stayed, she grabbed her pillows from the floor, along with a sheet, and laid down, letting the tears of pain fall. 


	11. Bonded part 11

Disclaimer: I own the plot. I own the dialogue, and really that's about it. The characters and the world they belong to are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and all those others.  
  
Rating: R.  
Summary: While fighting a demon Willow and Spike become bound together. W/S pairing.  
A/N: This takes place after season 5. It's during the summer, a bit AU. Nothing is season 6 happened, or will probably. Buffy was brought back in an unknown way.  
  
Feedback: No, I can't stand the stuff. (That'd be sarcasm, ppl)  
Dedication: To Claudia, the best beta ever. Praise her, ppl, she's the reason this stuff is getting done so quickly, and why it's so polished and makes sense.  
  
  
  
PART 11  
  
Spike waited until Buffy and her lackey left before grabbing the box from the floor and heading into the kitchen. Instead of unpacking it and placing the individual packets of blood in the refrigerator, he tore open the box and shoved the whole thing inside. The bottles of Jack Daniels in his pockets went into the cupboard beside the fridge.  
  
"On second thought," he mumbled, sticking one of the bottles back into his pocket. Blood, cigarettes, and alcohol. He was all set. Time to check on Willow. Before he could make good his escape, Giles stopped him with a hand on his arm. Spike snarled at him, tired of being manhandled by Willow's friends.  
  
Giles crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at him, looking wholly unimpressed. "She needs to rest."  
  
Spike nodded. "Your point being?" She could rest as much as she wanted to, he'd even encourage it, but he also intended to make sure she was all right. He saw Dawn watching them from the doorway to the kitchen, a frown wrinkling her brow. When she noticed his eyes on her, she glared, turning away angrily. That girl needed to learn to let go of her anger every once in a while, he thought, she held grudges way too long.  
  
Giles shifted back into his vision, blocking out Dawn's back. "What Xander told you wasn't idle chatter. We have found a way to reverse the spell. However, if the Litchock that cast the spell is dead, or we can't find it, then we can't do anything about it." His eyes narrowed the slightest bit, giving him a dangerous edge. "But know this, Spike; you're not wanted here. None of these kids likes you. None of them want you hanging around, making their lives miserable." He leaned forward, speaking slowly, succinctly. "Not even Willow. She, more than any of us, wants this bond broken."  
  
Spike nodded again, as if he was considering Giles' words, but then he shrugged and pushed past the other man with a laugh. "Bugger off." His tone was light, jovial, uncaring. His mood was dark and raging.  
  
There, apparently, was his answer to the question that'd been roiling around his brain upon hearing Xander's words. Willow wanted the bond gone. Wanted to be free of him. Stopping just outside her bedroom door, he wondered why it bothered him so much. The obvious reasons were there and definitely a factor.  
  
If the bond was broken, he wouldn't be able to feed anymore. Wouldn't be able to hurt a human without hurting himself. Willow got the pain from his implant, but she also got less of the pain than he did. She was able to withstand it better than him. But none of that mattered, he realized now that he hadn't intended to truly feed from anyone except Willow. Why go out and hunt down someone who wouldn't taste half as good as she did? Aside from that, when he drank from Willow, it was mostly painless due to the way he was taking her blood.  
  
Sex made a lot of things easier to tolerate. Feeding during sex, for a vampire, and his partner, actually heightened the pleasure they both received. Willow knew that now. And she was attracted to him. He knew that. So what was to stop him from using that to his advantage? Not a damn thing until this threat of the bond ending surfaced.  
  
He couldn't let that happen. He wanted to stay bound to Willow. She wasn't too bad a partner... for a human. She was pretty, not at all the sort one would be ashamed to be seen with, smart, funny, quirky. And bloody hell, the sex had been great. As a vampire, being with a human was a completely different experience than being with another vampire. There was the blood, the warmth, the feel of skin and hair that was alive. They smelled different too. Especially Willow. He really liked her scent.  
  
She wasn't too bad a person to be stuck with for a few centuries.  
  
Pushing her bedroom door open, he went inside, closing it behind him. She was curled up on the bed, which was bare of anything except her, a single pillow under her head, and a sheet, which she was hugging to her rather than using to cover up. He loosened her hands from around the white material, and spread it over her, along with a blanket from the floor. The other pillow went beside her head. He'd leave her to sleep alone again tonight, but as soon as her friends were gone from the house, he would be in this bed again. With her.  
  
As he left her room behind, heading to his own, he decided to keep silent about the Litchock family feud. He'd hunt them himself. No one need know they were even in town. Less chance of them finding the one they needed to reverse the spell.  
  
He was in the midst of taking off his duster when he realized that it was still early for him. Only a few hours into darkness. Why waste time sitting alone in a room, bored and drinking when he could start his search for the Litchocks tonight? That decided, he shrugged back into his duster and went back downstairs, leaving the house.  
  
An hour later, he was still searching, having found nothing more threatening than a snarling dog that whimpered and ran away with its tail tucked between its legs when Spike snarled back at it. Two hours later, he was thoroughly bored. Not even the vampires seemed to want to show up and relieve his stress and boredom. Ungrateful wretches. Were they really afraid of a family of Litchocks? Or was there another reason they were scarce tonight?  
  
All that was around at the moment was a human somewhere behind him. A human he couldn't do anything to at the moment, so he ignored the person, and continued through the cemetery. A few minutes later, he felt the human moving closer, and rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the people around this town.  
  
"What are you doing out here?" Buffy asked from behind him.  
  
Oh, it was that human. He turned to look at her, surprised he hadn't realized it was her. Lately he'd been hyper aware of Buffy, what with loving her and all, but he hadn't even known she was there. Hadn't smelled her perfume-- ah, there it was now, as she walked closer, then past him.  
  
He fell into step beside her. "Where's--"  
  
"Before you come up with yet another ingenious name to call Xander," she said, looking sideways at him, "he's with Anya, at the shop. And, I told him to stay away from the house until he can stop threatening people."  
  
He tossed her a surprised look. "Well, good." Out of habit he said, "Worried about me?" But there was no actual smirking or taunting in his voice, which was a little annoying. He just wasn't in the mood.  
  
"Worried about Willow," she countered as they left the cemetery behind and crossed the street.  
  
Spike had already been there, done that, so he decided to leave her to it and get back home to Willow. "They're mostly empty," he called to her. "The five I was in anyway."  
  
"Which ones?" she asked, turning to walk backwards.  
  
He shrugged. "EverRest, Shady Pines, Under the Glen, RestField and the one we just left."  
  
She grinned, turning back around. "That's 'cause I've already been through them."  
  
Spike stared after her for a minute. Had they just had a civil conversation, without an argument? Would wonders never cease? He shook his head, turning away to start the walk back to Willow's house.  
  
But then he heard her voice again and stopped.  
  
"Angel?"  
  
Groaning at the thought of seeing soulboy, Spike turned to find Buffy standing right in front of him, and no Angel in sight.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
She was gazing up at him, and there were a million different emotions swimming around in her eyes. Emotions he wanted to be on the receiving end of. Now he was, but it felt... wrong. "Buffy, I'm not--"  
  
"I-- I thought we agreed to stay away from each other?"  
  
Spike stared down at her wondering if she'd suddenly gone insane. "Angel's not here," he told her slowly. "Um, what-- ah hell." She was hallucinating. She thought he was Angel, the bloody love of her bloody life. And she was looking up at him like she wanted to jump into his arms, but was holding back. Afraid of ruining the tenuous relationship she and Angel had?  
  
He grabbed her by the arm, not willing to just leave her there, lost in the land of illusions. "Come on," he mumbled, hoping no demons were around to witness him helping the Slayer home. He shook his head in despair.  
  
She stopped walking, dragging him to a halt. "Angel, stop. What's going on?" She paused for a second, shaking her head. "No, we are going to talk about this."  
  
"Eh?" Spike replied. She was hearing things too? He hadn't heard anything when he'd had his Dru encounter. The woman had looked like her, and reached out to touch his face in a manner that was all Dru, but she hadn't said anything. Maybe, if Willow's theory was correct, and they were seeing people they loved, maybe they were hearing what they wanted to hear. Had Willow-- hang on. Just what had Willow heard from Tara? Sighing at himself for once again letting his thoughts wander--and to Willow no less--he stepped closer to Buffy, speaking quietly, not wanting to spook her. "I'm not Angel."  
  
Tears formed in her eyes and she shook her head, backing away. "We can't keep doing this. I-- I can't keep doing this."  
  
Spike frowned down at her angrily. Everything she was saying was forcing him to realize that she still wanted Angel. Still loved the bastard, and no matter what happened, or who she was with, she would always love him. Always want him. Always lust after him. "I'm not Angel," he repeated louder, clenching his fists at his side.  
  
"I know," she whispered, but before he could figure out if she was talking to him or Angel, she stood on tiptoe, placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him.  
  
He froze. This was something he'd dreamed about for more than a year. Dreamed and fantasized about. Wanted.  
  
Still wanted.  
  
The kiss was soft, tender, a lover's kiss. Her lips parted the smallest bit and he found himself unable to not kiss her back. Willow and the bond and everything else was forgotten in that moment. He had dreamed of this moment too many times to count, so very many times. She pressed herself against him, catching him off guard, and he stumbled back against the brick wall of the building they were in front of. She moved with him, kissing him with more passion, and less tenderness.  
  
She wanted him. His brain knew that was wrong, but his body didn't care. It wanted her.  
  
His hands grabbed her by her upper arms, holding her closer-- why then was she getting further away? He broke the kiss, looking down into her glazed eyes. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling as she fought to regain her composure, but it seemed to be a losing battle. Which meant she was still under the impression that he was Angel.  
  
Which meant he'd pushed *her* away, not the other way around. What the hell was the matter with him? As he pondered that thought, her eyes cleared and she looked around her in confusion.  
  
"Spike? But I thought--" her eyes widened as she realized who it was she'd just kissed. And been pressed up against. In whose arms she'd been in. "Oh, God," she whispered, backing away. "I'm sorry... I-- I didn't meant to--"  
  
"Yeah," he said defensively, "I know. You didn't mean to touch me and soil your perfect little hands. Got it." He started to walk away, then turned back, angrily. "Just remember; you kissed me, I didn't--"  
  
"Stop it from happening," she interrupted, frowning at him. He knew damn well most of her anger was aimed at herself. Seeing her head shake, he tacked on denial.  
  
Like that'd make it go away, he thought sarcastically, resuming his trip home. "Actually, I kind of did," he tossed over his shoulder. "Didn't see you stopping it anytime soon." He chuckled lowly, hoping like hell he'd pissed her off just a little. When he turned to look, she was gone.  
  
Shrugging, he went home.  
  
  
  
Spike was barely in the house when he heard Giles call to him. Since he was going through the living room anyway, being it was that, or the closet by the door, he strode into the room, not intending to stop. "What?"  
  
"I wanted to talk to you," Giles said, looking up at him from the chair across the room. He had a notepad on his lap and a cup and saucer on the arm of the large, overstuffed chair he was sitting in.  
  
Spike kept on going. "No," was his only reply.  
  
Giles chuckled in self derision. "I deserved that, I suppose."  
  
"Bloody right, you do," Spike shot back, stopping against his will. "You and the rest of them. Every last one of you... except Willow. She's the only decent one in the pathetic group of losers you all have compiled." His anger was rising back to the surface, and he was pretty sure most of it was directed at Buffy at the moment. He'd had her in his arms, kissing her, holding her close, but he'd pushed her away. Why, damn it? An image of Willow's lips curling up into that quirky smile she got when she was amused, but trying not to laugh, came to mind and he suddenly had an idea.  
  
But he still planned to blame it all on Buffy.  
  
"That may be," Giles was saying, looking at him over the rim of his glasses, "but this is for your well being as well as Willow's." He motioned for Spike to sit down, and waited.  
  
Spike sighed heavily, not wanting to do it. After a quick glance up the stairs, he dropped onto the couch cushions, planting his feet firmly on the ground, and glared at the watcher. "What?"  
  
"I think we should test the limits of the bond." He held his hand up when Spike immediately started to protest. "Hear me out. There's no way for you to both know where the other is at all times unless you spend every moment with each other. She has school, friends, daytime activities, and due to your sun aversion, you can't be with her during them." He paused, waiting for Spike to agree.  
  
Spike shrugged, not wanting to admit Giles was right. Willow did have all of those things. She sure as hell wouldn't be giving them up just to accommodate him, same as he wouldn't be giving up some of his activities for her. They led different lives, and in both of them, there were unknowns. "Right. So, how do we test it? Jog five miles in the opposite direction?"  
  
Giles chuckled, shaking his head. "We drive you to two locations, I'll be with you, Buffy and Xander with Willow. We'll keep in contact, with walkie talkies, or something similar. It's all very controlled, and if anything should happen, we'll be there to remedy it."  
  
"What if we both keel over as soon as we pass that five mile marker?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow at Giles. "I'll be dust, and Willow will be brought back, is that how it works? She gets rid of me, and--"  
  
"No," Giles denied, sitting up. "The thought never crossed my mind, I'm ashamed to say." He carefully picked up the cup and saucer, placing them and the pad on the table. "If I were better at being evil, I'm sure it would have."  
  
Spike smirked, taking it as a compliment. "Would've gotten it eventually," he tossed back, then switched back to the topic at hand. "So what happens if we die? I'm not willing to take that chance--"  
  
"Of course you're not," Giles said derisively, cutting him off mid-sentence.  
  
"--with Willow's life," Spike finished, giving Giles a hard look. "So far, you're not inspiring confidence in me. Why should I trust you?"  
  
"For the same reason I trust you. Willow. I'd never see her hurt. If I didn't think death was highly improbable, I wouldn't even be considering doing this. But what if you're chasing a demon in the cemetery and Willow's on her way to the shop and neither one of you knows how far apart you are? Wouldn't you rather know what's going to happen and be able to deal with it?"  
  
Giles made a good case, and had already convinced Spike. If Willow agreed. If she didn't feel comfortable with any of it, they weren't doing it. "All right," he agreed, standing up. "But only if Willow's a hundred percent on this. Otherwise, go find someone else to dissect."  
  
"I'd be surprised if Willow hasn't thought of this herself," Giles told him confidently, sitting back with his cup of tea.  
  
Spike couldn't help but agree with him. Willow's was an analytical mind, she'd be wholly into figuring out every aspect of the bond. He left the living room for the empty kitchen, grabbing a bag of blood from the box in the fridge. As it heated up in the microwave, he leaned against the doorjamb. "Where's Dawn?"  
  
Giles' teacup clattered against the saucer as he set it down a little harder than he'd intended. "I had Xander take her home. She was getting on my last nerve with all her sulking and pouting."  
  
Spike knew exactly what Giles meant. He'd never known a more complaining person in his century-long life aside from Dru. Still, he was fond of the little brat. The microwave beeped, and he grabbed the blood, heading up to his room.  
  
  
  
Showers were wonderful inventions, and since being a vampire was dirty work, Spike couldn't go more than a day without bathing, else he'd be coated in blood, gore, and dirt. At least, the way he used to kill, he would've. He liked to physically attack his victims, fight them, hunt them and drag them down kicking and screaming. He'd fought often and fought well. Bloodying himself most of the time. Then he'd go to a bathhouse and enjoy the tubs filled with hot water. Sometimes Dru came with him, and they'd have fun cleaning each other off.  
  
Other times, he went by himself and simply sat immersed in the hot water, dreading the moment the water cooled to the point of being uncomfortable enough to vacate.  
  
Rolling his eyes at the direction his thoughts were taking, Spike stood under the hot spray of water, letting it pour over him in warm rivulets. Running water was a luxury he didn't have anymore. Not since moving to his crypt. Since then, he'd made do with Giles' apartment, or gone to a motel. Now, he was once again in the vicinity of running water and showers, and he was taking advantage of that. It was a wonderful invention.  
  
  
  
After too long a shower, Spike yanked a clean pair of blue jeans from the bag he'd brought here the other day, and a black button up shirt. His other clothes needed washed, which, he figured could be done today. Domestic, he was not, but a clean person, absolutely. A clean pair of socks, and his old boots went on next. He grabbed the pile of dirty clothes and headed downstairs.  
  
There was a washer just off the kitchen, he was sure of it. As he cautiously passed the living room, checking to make sure the curtains were closed, he heard the TV turned on low. Willow was sitting on the couch, half laying, half sitting. Not stopping to chat, he continued into the kitchen. The washer and drier were in a small room just off the kitchen, as he'd thought they were. He hadn't gotten a whole lot out of his imprisonment by the Scoobies, but he had learned one thing; how to do his laundry.  
  
And from Xander, of all people.  
  
After the whole, 'shrinking of his clothes' episode, Xander had taught him, very grudgingly, how to use a washer and drier. It had galled Spike to no end to have to be taught anything by Xander, but it'd come in handy since then. Before that, when his clothes got too dirty, he'd toss them and buy new ones. Well, steal new ones. Since being chipped, he didn't have a lot of cash, or opportunities to lift clothes without following through on his threats.  
  
That left laundry. And Xander's smug attitude in showing him how to use it.  
  
Each washer had to be different from the one before it, and they all seemed to have their own set of doodads and knobs, but, Spike was becoming an expert on laundry. When he learned something, he learned it well. So it didn't take him long to figure out all the knobs and controls on Willow's machine. In no time, he had his clothes in and was sipping on a mug of hot blood. Instead of taking it with him into the living room, he downed it and rinsed the mug, setting it in the sink, then left to join Willow.  
  
She was still on the couch, in the same position. He could only see the back of her head, but from her unwavering attention on the screen, she was either extremely interested in the show she was watching, or she was asleep.  
  
Listening to her breathing, he deduced that she was just very into the show she was watching. Something about space, it looked like. He walked quietly behind the couch, not wanting to disturb her yet, but before he was halfway across the room, she turned with a smile.  
  
"Vampires doing laundry," she mused, shaking her head. "And here I was wondering about silly things like how they shave with no mirrors."  
  
Spike shrugged, dropping down beside her. "It's a delicate process," he said, deadpan, "painful sometimes. But we persevere."  
  
"Shaving?" she chuckled. "Or laundry?"  
  
"Both," he said with a nod, turning his attention to the TV. Lots of empty black space and stars were being shown as a narrator droned on and on about them. Kinda reminded him of Dru. "What you watching?"  
  
"A show," she told him, grinning when he waited for more. "About black holes." She downed the volume a little and handed him the remote, lifting a book from beside her. "You can change it if you want. I'm barely paying attention. Seen it before."  
  
He settled back more firmly against the cushions, and incidentally, her arm. Focusing on the show wasn't too hard, it was actually a little interesting. In a completely non-demonic way. He had interests outside death and blood. Speaking of which... "Where is everyone?" There was a distinct lack of heartbeats in the house.  
  
She shifted slightly as she turned a page in the book she was reading. "Giles and Anya are at the shop, Xander's at work, Dawn's at school, and Buffy is-- oh, I forgot." She flipped the book over on her lap, marking her page as she turned toward him. "Buffy had an 'episode' last night."  
  
Spike went even more still than usual. Did Willow know about the kiss? Had Buffy told her? Great, so much for being able to continue with his seduction. Being reminded of his feelings for Buffy, even if they were starting to be former feelings, wasn't going to win him any points with Willow. Bloody hell. "Went insane and killed a bunch of humans, forcing Giles to put her down?" he asked hopefully. "That kind of episode?"  
  
She started to frown, but simply settled for rolling her eyes. "She saw Angel, only he's still in L.A.," she explained. "Guess it was only a matter of time before she had an hallucination. As much as she's out there I'm surprised it didn't happen before now."  
  
"Seeing things... so I was half right," he chuckled, pretending ignorance. She wasn't biting his head off for snarking on her best friend, so maybe Buffy hadn't told her the complete truth.  
  
She nudged his arm, tilting her head to the side with a disapproving look. "Spike, insulting her isn't going to make the feelings go away."  
  
"Feelings," he repeated, about to deny it out of habit, but there was no point to it. She knew. He knew. They all knew. "So, what happened?"  
  
"She was patrolling, saw Angel, turned out it was a vampire of another color." She fiddled with the spine on her book, glancing up at him very briefly.  
  
Did she know, or was she nervous because of Buffy being involved?  
  
If he was human, would he be sweating right now? He certainly felt the urge to. "Oh. Well, she's not exactly--" blameless, he was going to say, but Willow interrupted him.  
  
"She even kissed him," Willow giggled. "Having been there, done that, for the same reason and cause, well, I can laugh. Just, um, don't tell her I did, 'kay?"  
  
Instead of saying, 'whew!' like he wanted to, he sat back, considering her request. "I don't know... I think I need an incentive."  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him, biting the inside of her cheek which caused her lips to purse in a pseudo pout. "Really. And what did you have in mind?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
He grinned and lifted the book from her lap, tossing it to the coffee table. "Oh, I think I can come up with a few ideas," he said softly, making sure to let a little huskiness seep into his voice. It affected her every time, and now was no exception. Her eyes dropped to his lips and her breathing sped up along with her heartbeat which was beating out a rapid tattoo.  
  
She rolled her eyes again, reaching for her book. "I told you before, Spike, I'm not your personal sex partner, or a snack bar. Go chew on someone else."  
  
Spike once again took the book from her, and when she reached for it again with a sigh of exasperation, he slid his hands around her waist and lifted her up. Once she was settled snugly in his lap, straddling him, he smirked at her. "Not hungry," he told her.  
  
She didn't look amused, or turned on in the slightest. Kinda looked a little ticked off actually. Instead of protesting with her mouth, she pressed her hand against his stomach wound. He didn't even flinch when she touched him. She frowned and pressed harder. "What--"  
  
He lifted his shirt with one hand and grabbed her hand with the other, settling it against his skin. "Look, Ma, no pain."  
  
Her eyes darted down to where their hands were still joined. She pulled her fingers from his with a frown. There was a scar where the hole used to be and a little bruising, but not much more. "Hey, when did that heal? A-- and why isn't mine healed like that?" She lifted the hem of her shirt to show him the bruising still visible on her perfectly flat, perfectly pale abdomen.  
  
He slid his hands back to her waist and held her still when she tried to climb off. "No vampire healing," he explained. "Still hurt?"  
  
"No, not for a few days, but-- oh, stop that."  
  
Ignoring her, he continued nipping on her lower lip with his teeth, and went a step further by threading his hands through her hair, bringing her closer to him. She gasped when he slid his tongue along her lip before sucking it into his mouth.  
  
"Stop," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.  
  
Spike had no idea why she was so opposed to this. It's what they both wanted, and she'd never been very convincing when she denied it. She had trouble giving into what she wanted, he got that. Unless it was what everyone expected of her. He rested his forehead against hers, gazing at her. It took her a minute to realize he'd gone still, she was so wrapped up in kissing him. When she finally forced her eyes open, he smiled crookedly at her. "Stop?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Tell that to your lips." He pressed his lips against hers in a quick kiss. "And your hands," he shrugged his shoulders lightly, bringing her attention to her hands, which were wrapped tightly around his back.  
  
She closed her eyes in guilt, swallowing thickly. "I'm sorry--" she began, but he cut her off, his voice holding a warning.  
  
"Don't." He closed his own eyes, shifting under her a little, trying to ease the ache she'd caused. "You want me," he told her, daring her to deny it.  
  
She didn't. For once, she just gave in with a sigh, nodding in agreement. "I do." Her brows dipped down in a frown, and her eyes opened, staring into his, searching for something.  
  
Whether she found what she was looking for or not, he had no idea. "So what's the problem?" he whispered, lifting her shirt, exposing her abdomen. He laughed deeply when she leaned forward, pressing herself more firmly against his erection. "It's certainly not due to any doubts about me wanting you. Pretty obvious, isn't it?"  
  
There was a ghost of a smile on her lips, but it died almost as soon as it was born. "It's wrong."  
  
Wrong. "Why do so damn many people use that word when talking to me?" he asked bitterly. "It's always, 'Vampires are wrong. Spike is wrong. Loving you is wrong.' When are things ever right with me?"  
  
She shook her head in denial, halting his hands with her own when he started to lift her off of him. "No. I didn't mean it that way. I only meant it's wrong because you still love Buffy, and I still love Tara."  
  
He didn't deny it. Buffy was still someone he loved, just not with the same intensity as before. Willow was helping to replace Buffy in his heart, and hopefully he was doing the same with Tara for Willow. That was his whole goal, after all. To make the girl fall in love with him. Maybe though, instead of using that knowledge against Buffy, or to win her, as he'd planned on doing, he would simply enjoy it and see where it led.  
  
Yeah, he could stick with Willow for a while, seeing as how he was attached to her anyway.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
But apparently, it would have to wait for another time. He sat back with a sigh, releasing her. "You're free to go."  
  
She laughed lightly, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. "What if I don't want to be free?" she asked, running her hands through his hair, completely messing it up. She tugged lightly on a lock of the bleach blonde strands, watching him steadily. "What if I want to be as un-free as a person can be?"  
  
He nodded, pretending to consider her words. As if he wasn't silently crowing in triumph, or trying not to jump for joy. "I think I've changed my mind," he told her, nodding in agreement with his own words. "Got a headache now." His hands under her shirt completely belied his words.  
  
"Yeah?" she whispered, her lips tracing a path from his forehead to his lips.  
  
He liked this. It was different being the center of attention. Her attention. It was always the other way around with Dru. He rained his attention on Dru, he touched her, kissed her, made love to her. She never returned the favor. Harmony, on the other hand, had been cloying and possessive when he didn't want her to be. Didn't want her, except for sex. And even then, with her constant yapping, he probably would've been better off going solo. So, at the moment, he was content to let Willow have her way with him. "Yeah," he sighed, closing his eyes as her lips touched against his once, twice.  
  
"Guess you want me to stop then." She slid her hands under his shirt, pulling it up slowly. After unbuttoning it, and wrestling it off of his arms, she sat back, looking at him. "You probably don't want my hands on you either... or my mouth, or..." she took off her shirt, tossing it to the floor beside his. "My skin against yours." She leaned forward, pulling him up and against her at the same time. "You're not liking this, I hope, otherwise I'd think you were lying."  
  
Liking it? God no, he was only unable to think about anything else except Willow and where she would touch next. His whole world, at that moment, consisted of Willow and nothing else. "Mmm, nope," he chuckled shortly, gasping when her mouth settled on his neck. "Not liking it at all." He slid one hand around to the back of her head, holding her still, while his other hand moved down her back, pressing her mostly naked chest against his. "You really... really need to stop doing that now," he managed to get out, his voice strangled.  
  
She smiled against his neck, slipping one hand between them and scraping her nails against his chest. "You know, I've heard that men don't like being touched..." her hand settled over one of his nipples, "here. Is that true?" She scraped one fingernail over his nipple, causing him to suck in his breath through his teeth and arch into her.  
  
His eyes snapped open, and he had to force himself not to morph into his demon face. "Where'd you hear that?" he asked, watching her through slitted eyes.  
  
Instead of answering, she asked a question of her own. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." She tried to sit back, but he held her right where she was. "O-- on the internet. I read it on the internet. I didn't mean to hurt you."  
  
"You didn't," he assured her. "At least no more than I wanted to be hurt." That fine line of pleasure/pain that existed in all things, most especially in sex, was a constant source of fun for vampires. Pushing that line as far as it would go was a form of entertainment. For Spike, that was only something he liked when pleasure was involved as well. Mostly. He'd told Willow pain wasn't something he liked with his pleasure, but to some extent, he'd been lying. This kind of pain he liked. Very much. "What else did you read on the internet?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her, a certain amount of anticipation on his face.  
  
She snorted with laughter, sitting back a little on his thighs. "This isn't me," she told him, shaking her head. "I'm not the Mistress of Pain, o-- or a dominatrix. I don't *do* stuff like this. I'm not Buffy." Realizing what she'd just said, she quickly amended her words. "Not that Buffy's a dominatrix. Or into pain, or anything like that." She frowned, biting her lip. "Not that I know what Buffy's into... I'm just saying, she's probably sort of in charge and demanding, and this is *so* not something I'm thinking about. Ever. Point is, I'm not her. I'm just me, and this," she gestured to them, and climbed off his lap to stand in front of the couch, "this, is not me."  
  
He waited until he was sure she was finished before speaking. When Willow was off on one of her rants she could plow right over anyone else who was talking without hearing a word they said. He didn't feel like repeating himself, so he waited until she stopped, then waited another few seconds. "Good. I don't want Buffy. I want you. Just... be yourself."  
  
She burst out laughing, sitting primly on the edge of the couch beside him. "You sound like a Hallmark card."  
  
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Mr. Sincerity. I live to help others."  
  
She looked over at him with a sigh. She was in nothing more than a pair of jeans and a frilly white bra. Her breathing was a little more rapid than normal, and she obviously didn't want to stop anymore than he did, so why was she stopping? he wondered.  
  
He looked over at her. She gazed back, and they both moved at the same time. She reached out for him and laid back, pulling him on top of her, while he propped himself up on his elbows over her, cradling her face with his hands.  
  
"Just this once," she gasped, arching into him when he slid one hand down her chest to her stomach to undo her jeans.  
  
"Right," he agreed, raising his hips slightly to give her better access to the buttons on his jeans. "Just this once."  
  
Impatient, when after a minute, her fingers were getting nowhere on his buttons, he knelt back, straddling her legs to yank his jeans open. She lifted her hips as much as his position would allow her, and pushed her jeans down. He took over when she could move them no more due to him being in the way. Dragging the heavy black material from her legs, he tossed them to the floor and pushed his own off.  
  
She started giggling almost hysterically when he got them as far as his thighs before needing to switch positions to remove them. He scowled at her, letting her pull her legs out from under him so he could sit and pull the blue jeans off. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to laugh at a man when he's naked?"  
  
She shook her head, still laughing. Worse still, she was starting to snort. "Like my opinion matters to you enough to put anything more than a tiny dent in your self assurance and arrogance. Please," she scoffed.  
  
Finally through with his pants and socks, he frowned down at her. "Your opinion matters," he told her, sliding his hand down her ankle and slipping off one bright red sock and then the other. Red to match her blouse. Of course. He tossed the socks on the growing pile of clothes and glanced up at her.  
  
Her laughter was gone and a frown of her own had appeared. "Oh," she said softly, apologetically. "I didn't mean to insult you."  
  
"You didn't." He grinned, winking at her. "Well, maybe a small dent." Stopping her from whatever she was about to say, he lifted her up by her shoulders and kissed her. His mouth moved over hers hungrily, ravenously, and he had to amend his earlier words. He was definitely hungry, just not for blood.  
  
Laying her down and moving with her, he pressed her down into the couch. Before she hit the couch completely, she shoved her arms behind her back, halting their momentum. "Bra," she explained, fidgeting with it.  
  
He chuckled and lifted her up, reaching around to unhook the white scrap of material. "Here, let me."  
  
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to laugh at a girl when she's naked?" she mocked, shivering as her bra was removed and his eyes were suddenly fastened on her.  
  
"No laughter here," he assured her, looking his fill. "Definitely no laughter." During the past week, since the bond began, he'd slept with Willow, had sex with her, touched and kissed her, even seen her in the bathtub, but never before had she been completely naked and bared before him. For him.  
  
She was starting to grow nervous under his perusal of her, he could tell. Her lip was caught between her teeth, tugging at it as her eyes settled somewhere on his chest. The fingers of her left hand, the hand closest to him, traced along the edge of the cushion beside her.  
  
"Oh, look," he teased, trying to put her at ease, "there's a body under all those fuzzy clothes." He traced his hand along her hip, his eyes following the movement. Stopping as he neared her chest, he ran his thumb along the underside of her breast.  
  
She twisted her mouth up in disbelief. "I think you may have felt this body quite a few times, like say... when you tried to kill me in my dorm room? Or when you hauled me off to that warehouse to do the love spell for you?"  
  
He grinned, glancing up at her briefly before returning his gaze to his hand as it traveled along her rib cage. The few bruises still there were faint, but visible, and they contrasted beautifully with her pale skin. "I did." Both times he'd wanted her, though not solely in a sexual way. He'd wanted to drain her and shag her. Kiss her and kill her. Though, right now she didn't need to know that. "Wanted you too."  
  
She frowned up at the ceiling. "If that wasn't the kind of wanting associated with wanting someone dead, I'd be flattered." Her eyes slid to his. "Really."  
  
He laughed. Straddling her and grasping her hands in one swift movement, imprisoning them above her head. "Then be flattered," he told her just before his mouth settled over hers. Sliding his tongue inside her mouth, he pressed firmly against her, touching her in all the right spots.  
  
"I'll be flattered later," she mumbled into his mouth. Pulling back slightly, she grinned at him. "Right now, I'll settle for this. 'Cause, you know, it's a good thing to settle for."  
  
"It is when I do it," he agreed, chuckling at her eye roll. If he didn't know better, he'd think she wasn't all that impressed with him. Of course, he did know better. Everyone was impressed with him. It was just the cross he had to bear. His burden.  
  
Willow's mouth returning to his stopped his conceited thoughts, and led to some serious kissing. Trying to get into a better position, since he was a bit... pressed, at the moment, he slid lower and was greeted with the sight of Willow's neck. Blood pumping through her veins, her pulse lightly tapping out a rhythm just under the skin, all in perfect harmony with her heartbeat. It was, in a sense, perfection.  
  
She shifted to her right, lifting one leg beside him, bending it at the knee. The couch was a bit small for slow lovemaking, but neither was complaining. A lifted leg here, a shifting hip there, accommodating each other wordlessly, that's all there was at the moment; all that was needed. Spike released her hands and filled his own with her breasts, hefting their weight as she ran her fingers through his hair.  
  
She closed her eyes, sucking in a breath when he lightly rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. Spike watched her avidly. He was an ardent observer of people, always had been. He liked to watch them die, watch them whimper and scream in pain, watch them whimper and scream in ecstasy. The similarities between the two were undeniable, and equally enjoyable, and they fascinated him.  
  
Willow's whimpers and moans were due solely to arousal and he was absolutely happy with that. He didn't want pain for her, not anymore.  
  
Her arousal was wholly her own, and yet, in a way, it was Spike's as well. He felt like he owned it just as much as she did, because he was the cause. He was making her gasp and arch against him with a touch to her abdomen. He was forcing her to hiss in pleasure when he slid his fingers along her inner thigh. He was the one causing her to shift restlessly on the couch as he finally leaned down to take one of her breasts into his mouth.  
  
"Spike," she moaned, holding his head to her. One leg slid along his, then raised to his hip, holding him to her there as well.  
  
He felt an urge to bite into her flesh, to hurt her, take her blood. Kill her. It was easy to ignore the urge, but the want remained, and needed to be satisfied in other ways. He lightly bit down on her breast, then sucked the flesh back into his mouth, soothing the hurt he feared he'd caused. She watched him through slitted eyes which soon fell shut.  
  
Spike was feeling a bit neglected, and told her as much by leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Touch me." Almost immediately he felt her lips on his neck, sucking at the flesh. A nice, erotic sensation for anyone. More so for a vampire. He sighed, settling down against her again.  
  
"Any particular area you'd like me to touch?" she teased, sliding one hand down his back and around his hip. Slowly, her hand trailed along his stomach, from one hip to the other, and then lower. Her fingers spread wide as she leaned up and kissed him, wrapping her hand around his shaft. "How about here?" she asked huskily.  
  
His hips thrust forward as soon as her hand wrapped around him. "The words, 'God yes' come to mind." He grinned down at her. "Does that make me any less of a man?"  
  
She shrugged, her eyes dropping to where her hand was busy stroking him. "You're asking me? A lesbian?"  
  
Spike cleared his throat, trying not to laugh at her. "A lesbian who currently has her hand wrapped around a man's--"  
  
"Penis," she supplied primly, biting her lip to keep from giggling. Her hand stopped its movement on him and slid up his chest and around his neck, meeting her other hand to lock around his neck.  
  
"Mmm," he agreed absently, a little--make that a lot--disappointed that she'd stopped stroking him. Forgoing one pleasure for another, he rested his hands on her hips, holding her still for him. Instead of immediately thrusting inside of her, he waited. "So, unless this means nothing to you, and you're not enjoying it, then I'd say bi-sexual is more fitting."  
  
"I'm enjoying," she told him, moving against him, trying to get him to continue, but he kept still. Waiting. "Bi-sexual works," she agreed, frowning when he stared into her eyes, unmoving. "Spike, what--?"  
  
He stared down at her for another minute, searching for some sign that she cared about him, but there was nothing there that told him this meant more to her than a quick shag by a prostitute. He needed more than that. Wanted more than that. "Say it," he told her, frowning when she shrugged in confusion.  
  
"Say what?" She looked uncomfortable, and not in a physical way. "I don't know what you want."  
  
"You. To want me." He hated himself for the near pleading in his voice, and what he knew was showing on his face, but at the moment, it was a burning need inside of him, surpassing even the need for physical pleasure. "Tell me you want me," he demanded.  
  
Her face softened, and he had to close his eyes against it. His descent into Pansyville was complete. Officially, he was lower than even Angel. Leaning his forehead against hers, he forced away all thoughts of needing to be wanted, and wanting to be needed, and thrust inside of her. She gasped at the abruptness of it, but he didn't stop to think or ponder it. Once they both reached that pinnacle of pleasure, he could get away from her and her pity.  
  
"Spike," she moaned, then a little louder. More insistent. "Spike." Her hands on his biceps squeezed him tightly, and he realized she was trying to get his attention, to get him to look at her.  
  
He couldn't do that. He slowed his pace, reaching behind him to lift her leg around his hip, then lifted the other one. She let him, then cupped his face in her hands, kissing him.  
  
"Look at me," she whispered, almost desperately. He kept his eyes closed, and tried to pull out of her grip, but she held tight. "Please."  
  
Feeling more like an animal than a demon, he stopped moving inside of her, and took a deep breath, opening his eyes. Dreading what he'd see on her face, all that pity and derision, he barely spared her a glance before settling his eyes somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline. "You want to stop?" he asked.  
  
"No, I want you to look at me," she said, sounding grumpy.  
  
Holding back the insane urge to chuckle, he finally looked at her, surprised to find, not pity, but understanding. No derision, just simple compassion. He kept silent, letting her have her say.  
  
"I *do* want you," she insisted, staring into his eyes, making sure he believed her. And he did. "Though God knows why I want you, Spike. You're rude, and a jerk most of the time, a-- and in love with my best friend." She looked away, almost sadly, her face softening even more. "But, you know, there's also this other part to you, the part you hardly ever show. To me anyway." She sighed, shrugging helplessly. "I mean, you steered me around a broken beer bottle the other night, which was really sweet and old fashioned and really weird. And you told me it wasn't so bad being tied to me for the rest of our lives, and--" she sighed again. "And I want you. All the time."  
  
Spike nodded, unable to fight back the smile tugging at his lips. Love's bitch, he'd once called himself, and looking down at Willow right now as she lay under him, naked and surrounding him with her warmth, he knew that to be the truth. But he wasn't only love's bitch, he was lust's as well, along with want and need. His fierce need to belong to someone, with a group, anything that made him feel like a part of the world, would be the death of him, he was sure.  
  
He kissed her lips lightly, just a small thank you, to show he was grateful for her truthfulness and reassurance.  
  
"Wanna show me how grateful you are?" she whispered against his mouth. Her smile was wide and genuine when she arched up against him. "How about finishing what you started?"  
  
"Oh, that," he chuckled, sliding out of her with excruciating slowness.  
  
"Yeah, that," she agreed, pressing her hands against his back, trying to make him move inside her again. "Please," she practically begged. "I need you. Want you... so much," she mumbled, looking away briefly before fixing her eyes to his face. "Too much. All the time."  
  
Spike reached down between their bodies and slid his finger over her clit, watching her. Her eyes closed slowly, her head moving back. Red hair framed her face, the bruises on the left side making her look vulnerable, and small, and completely under his control. When she bit her lip on a moan, he couldn't stand it any longer, and slid back inside of her, starting up a pace that had her gasping, and him groaning.  
  
She was tight, and warm. So bloody warm. Her flesh surrounded him like a warm bath, pushing away the cold of his own flesh. His pace quickened as he neared orgasm. She wasn't as far gone as him, so he reached back down between them, and played his finger over her clit again. Her body clenched around him, tighter and tighter as she thrust up against him, their bodies meeting in welcome pleasure.  
  
Settling his mouth over hers, he reveled in the feel of her hands on his back, scratching and clawing at his flesh. Her own back had to be stinging from the pain, but it only made her arch further into him, and they both liked that.  
  
She tightened against him even more, and ripped her mouth from his as she came. "Oh God..." she practically screamed.  
  
Spike sped up his pace and wrapped his arms around her back, holding her closer. Her legs dropped from his hips, and her hands left his back. Instead of leaving him completely, her fingers clawed his chest and abdomen, then scraped against his nipples. He thrust faster and harder, groaning against her neck as he finally came, reaching that pinnacle he'd been striving for just to get away from her.  
  
He no longer wanted to leave her. In fact, as he laid down on her and her arms wrapped around his back, he closed his eyes contentedly, thinking to himself that, maybe he didn't ever want to leave the soft comfort of her body. 


	12. Bonded part 12

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, or 11.  
  
PART 12  
  
Through the heavy haze of deep sleep, Willow heard her name being called. She automatically fought the pull of reality, not wanting to lose that feeling of rightness that came with pleasant dreams. When reality hit and the dream faded, the feeling left with the memory of the images, and she didn't want to lose it this time. She wanted to stay in the dream she was currently having. Being with Spike in the distant future, together in every sense of the word. He hadn't left her, hadn't grown bored with her, or become afraid of her and her magick, her and her feelings. He hadn't wanted to leave to gain control over himself, or because someone else came along threatening their relationship.  
  
"Willow... wake up," a voice whispered in her ear.  
  
She felt their breath on her skin and shivered, moaning in contentment. "No," she mumbled, sighing as she rolled over, trying desperately to get the dream back. It was elusive and resisted her grasp, but she was just starting to drift back into it when the voice spoke again, accompanied by a soft kiss.  
  
"Wake up, or else your friends are bound to find us naked, and wrapped up in a nice little package on your couch." The voice was Spike's, and he sounded very amused.  
  
"Go away," she told him, rolling onto her back to halt his hand from tracing patterns there. "I wanna sleep."  
  
"As much as I'd like to see Xander keel over from a heart attack, I think it'll have to wait for another day." He slapped her hip lightly, nudging her.  
  
"Go away," she repeated, immediately feeling the loss of him when he sat up. "They're not coming over, there's no reason for them to."  
  
"They're doing that blasted test tonight, remember? The-- oops." Now he completely left the couch.  
  
Willow opened her eyes and rolled over to look at him. He was kneeling beside the couch, looking decidedly shamefaced. "What oops?" she asked. "What test? There's a test? I didn't study..." she frowned, pushing the last traces of sleep away and sat up. "Huh?"  
  
"Oh," he laughed humorlessly. "Did I not tell you about that? Meant to when I came down here." His eyes slid over her body making her feel like she didn't have a stitch of clothing on.  
  
She looked down. And no wonder. She didn't *have* a stitch of clothing on, hence the feeling. "Tell me what?" she asked. Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest, and crossed her feet at the ankles, trying to hide her lack of clothing. Her eyes surreptitiously searched for her clothes.  
  
He bent down, picking something up from the floor. Her red blouse, the one she'd had on earlier, before their little romp in the... well, on the couch. She quickly shoved her arms into it and pulled it down over her, wishing it were just a little longer than hip length. Didn't cover a whole lot of her lower regions. A hand holding black jeans was suddenly right in front of her face, forcing her to look up from her fidgeting at the waist of her shirt.  
  
"Thanks," she mumbled, biting the bullet and sliding into them while he watched. A tiny little thrill went through her at his unwavering look, but she shoved it down, way down, to the furthest reaches of wherever those bad feelings went. "Um, test?" she reminded him.  
  
He was so busy watching her wriggle into her jeans and running his tongue along his teeth that he barely heard her. A second later, he snapped out of his reverie and looked up at her face. Yep, she wanted to say, up here, Spike, where the mouth is talking.  
  
"Right. Test." He sat back on his heels, giving her a good view of his own nakedness. "Giles wants to test the five mile part of the bond, maybe more. But they'll be here promptly at sunset, I'm sure. Maybe before."  
  
After mentally chastising Spike for staring, she found herself to be quite the hypocrite. Her eyes had landed somewhere near his chest when he sat back, and from there, they'd traveled down, checking out the parts she hadn't gotten to really see yet. And, wow. Pale skin, all white and muscles rippling, and lean, narrow hips leading down to... skipping right over that part, she trailed her gaze down his muscled legs, feeling a guilty pleasure sweep through her. She was ogling Spike like a piece of meat. Manmeat. Like a horse, a stud horse, only with less icky thoughts in that direction.  
  
His words penetrated her mind seconds after he'd stopped speaking. "Oh, hey, that's a good idea," she said enthusiastically, much more so since she'd returned her gaze to his face to find him not laughing at her ogling, he wasn't even looking at her, which, yay. She frowned, realizing she hadn't once thought to test the bond. "Why didn't I think of that?"  
  
"Possibly because you've had other things on your mind, like being punched in the face, and being stabbed--by proxy--in the stomach?" He grabbed his blue jeans and stood up, bringing his crotch right smack dab into her view. Right in her face. "And me," he chuckled, looking down at her.  
  
She narrowed her wide-eyed stare and angled it at him. "There's that jerk part of you again." Not bothering to even look at him again, she headed upstairs to take a shower.  
  
"Hey, forgot something," Spike called after her.  
  
She turned to look at him, not really wanting to, but unable to stop herself. Sure enough, he was holding all her under-things, bra, panties, socks... humiliation seemed to be complete. She left him in the living room and practically dove into the bathroom. Not that she was safe from him there since he'd broken the lock the night before.  
  
Sighing, she leaned against the bathroom door and stripped off the clothes she'd just hastily put on. She wasn't afraid of Spike, or even ashamed for having slept with him, no, what was bothering her was the complete lack of guilt, and the super wanting she had for him. Even when he was being the aforementioned jerk, she wanted him. That didn't sit well with her.  
  
"Oy," she muttered, pushing away from the door, naked and satisfied and in no way thinking about Spike downstairs, holding her panties and bra. Turning on the water to distract herself, she stepped under the spray. Knowing it would be cold, and actually feeling that coldness were two completely different things. She screamed as the cold water stung her face and body, dripping into spots that weren't immediately sapped of their warmth. Ice water. Oh, brr, she was a Willow-sicle.  
  
The door burst open a second later, scaring the heck out of her. She screamed and jumped back against the tiles, huddling there against the warmer-than-her tiles.  
  
"Willow?" It was Spike's voice. Again. And he sounded a little panicked. "What happened?" The curtain was pulled roughly aside, revealing Spike clad in the same blue jeans, and black button-up shirt he'd had on earlier. It was unbuttoned, and his feet were bare. She dragged her eyes from his exposed chest to his face, and found him looking anxiously at her.  
  
She shivered some more, and then glared. "Get out," she mumbled, straightening away from the wall. "You scared the stuffing out of me."  
  
"The stuffing?" he scoffed, shaking his head with a laugh.  
  
"The water's cold, I yelled, now go," she ordered, covering herself with the curtain as best she could. Her wet hair, plastered against her face was shoved impatiently out of her eyes so she could further glare at him without all the cold, wet drips down her face. So much better, now they were dripping down her back, and she had to resist arching her back to get away from the cold drips, which would probably give him the absolutely wrong impression, so she suffered in silence.  
  
His hand snaked out, well actually it only reached out, but to her, it seemed to snake out, and without blinking an eye at the freezing cold water hitting his hand and arm, he turned the hot on. His eyes widened slightly. "Why wasn't the hot on...?" His laughter rang out as he chortled and snickered, generally annoying the heck out of her. "There was no need for all of that," he laughed, stepping into the shower with her, "all you had to do was ask."  
  
She dropped the shower curtain and shoved at him. "Get out." When he only moved closer, ignoring the water sluicing down his back and dripping down his face, she got out instead, stepping onto the blue bath rug with a shiver. The cold air in the bathroom, from the wide open door had her reaching for a towel. "And that jerk side of yours just keeps on surfacing," she muttered, wrapping the fluffy towel around herself with a glare reserved only for the annoying vampire in front of her.  
  
He chuckled a little more, letting her know how amused he was, like she hadn't already gotten it, and vacated the tub. "Take your shower... and, uh, try using some warm this time." So saying, he grabbed the other towel and ran it over his head as he left the room behind.  
  
She threw the towel on the floor and resumed her shower, ever mindful of Spike and his possible entrance into the bathroom. And she in no way wanted that to happen again.  
  
She didn't.  
  
  
  
Willow, sitting stiffly on the couch, freshly showered, and blow dried, not to mention dressed, waited nervously for her friends to arrive. Giles had called an hour before, just as she was getting out of the shower, to let her know they'd be over as soon as Xander was off work. Xander and Buffy were going to pick Willow up while Giles and Dawn would take Spike.  
  
Her nervousness stemmed from a few different sources. Spike, in different clothes now since his trip into her shower, was dressed in a pair of his usual black jeans and the old red button-up shirt he'd stopped wearing a few years back. He was sitting right beside her, his arm and leg practically plastered against hers as he watched TV. Looked like a British crime show, but the main character had an Irish accent, so she wasn't exactly sure. Paying more attention to Spike's closeness than the TV was the cause for this. He was just an all around distraction.  
  
Another reason for the nervousness was seeing Xander again after their fight the night before. Especially since she had another bout of sex with Spike to throw in there for reasons why Xander should hate Spike. But, they weren't going to know about that. It was none of their business. She wasn't Anya, she didn't walk around spouting out how many times she'd had sex the night before, and in what positions. That was between her and Spike and no one else.  
  
Another reason, maybe the biggest one, was the test. What was going to happen when they took that one final step past the five mile mark? Death? Convulsions? Maybe they'd sprout wings and fly to each other, or be magically transported to a neutral spot somewhere in between. They had no way of knowing, and the unknown had always scared Willow. Vampires, demons, monsters who sucked kid's lives from them, that she could handle. It was the not knowing that was infinitely more frightening. So this test was actually clearing up one of those fears while creating a whole new one in the process.  
  
"Calm down," Spike told her, not even bothering to look away from the TV. "They'd never let anything happen to you. Bet they even set you up in front of the hospital, just in case."  
  
She nodded absently, sitting up a little. "Probably." His words of assurance helped, but not in a big way. "Makes sense that they-- hey, why didn't I think of that? I usually think of this stuff." She flopped back against the couch cushions, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's probably this stupid bond's fault. It's dumbing me down. I'm losing my smarts."  
  
Spike chuckled, turning to face her as he raised his legs on her lap and laid down. She glared at his now dry, jean-clad legs, but he ignored her for the TV where the smoking, drinking psychiatrist was arguing with a female cop that he happened to be having an affair with.  
  
"You're not losing your smarts, Willow. I'm-- wait a minute." He turned his eyes to her, and narrowed them at her angrily. "Are you calling me stupid?"  
  
"No, I'm calling me stupid," she corrected with a snort. "We may be bound together but we're two separate people, Spike. Two bodies, two minds."  
  
"Yeah, right," he scoffed, glaring at her a few more seconds before switching his attention back to the show. "This bond trades your pain for my pain and vice versa. Don't go thinking it saps your smarts, dumbing you down because of me."  
  
"I didn't--" she exhaled sharply, not wanting to argue with him. She had enough on her mind at the moment without adding an argument to it. Laying her head back, she closed her eyes, trying to calm down.  
  
Spike's boots on her thighs were growing increasingly more uncomfortable. Just as they became achy, he removed them. The couch shifted under her as he sat up.  
  
"Are you scared?" she asked him.  
  
"Nope." The answer was immediate, no thinking involved. "You shouldn't be either."  
  
"I know," she agreed, sighing. "It's just, you know, fear of the unknown. I like knowing things, being prepared. A certain amount of control is always a good thing." Opening her eyes as the doorbell rang, she inhaled deeply, then let out her breath slowly. "It's time."  
  
Spike turned off the TV and pulled her to her feet, giving her a gentle push towards the door. "We aren't going to die, Willow." He smirked, and gave her a quick pat on the butt. "I just got somewhat implant-free, you think I'd let myself get killed now?"  
  
Jumping slightly at the feel of his hands on her backside, she turned to glare at him. "Heck no."  
  
"Hell no," he agreed. "Now, let's--"  
  
The door opened and Buffy came in, looking directly and solely at Willow. "Ready?" Her eyes stayed on Willow, completely ignoring Spike, which had Willow frowning.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and pulled Willow along behind him. "We're ready," he answered, letting go of Willow's hand as he pushed past Buffy.  
  
Willow locked the door behind them and shoved her keys into her pocket. She should probably get a copy made for Spike, she thought absently, joining them on the sidewalk. Spike stopped suddenly, and she ran smack into his side. He reached out to steady her and she tossed him a quick little smile. "There's that non-jerk side again."  
  
He didn't respond, but maybe that was because all his attention was focused on glaring at the street. Willow looked up to see what had him so irritated. Xander's car was parked in front, but it was the only one there; Giles' car was nowhere to be seen.  
  
He sighed in annoyance. "Where's Rupert?"  
  
Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and dragged her toward Xander's car. "On his way."  
  
Willow halted Buffy's mad dash to the car and turned back, gesturing to Spike. "Shouldn't we wait?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Giles will be here in a second. You know him, he thinks the slow lane is too fast." She shot Spike a brief chilly look before settling her eyes on Willow's face again. "Spike's a big boy, Willow, he can wait alone. Come on."  
  
Willow frowned again. If she didn't know better, she'd think Buffy was trying to avoid Spike, but that was just plain silly. "That's not the point," she chastised. "You're being rude."  
  
"Rude?" Buffy snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Please. If this is me being rude, then what do you call what Spike tried to do to you in our dorm room?" She leaned back against the car fender, waiting. "You remember that, right? Fangs, bumpy face, evil growling?"  
  
Willow frowned at Buffy who was looking all self-righteous and smug as her eyes darted once more to Spike, then back to Willow. Willow turned to look at Spike, who was currently the proud owner of a huge scowl, and it seemed to be aimed at Buffy. Well, now what the heck was going on with them? she wondered. "Not you too," Willow groaned. "Xander corrupted you, didn't he?" She stepped back, raising her voice to include Spike. "Look, we have to learn to get along, all right. Buffy, I'm attached to Spike for possibly ever, and that's a long time. So, accept it and move on. I have." She turned her attention to Spike. "And you--"  
  
Buffy pushed away from the car, leaning closer to Willow as she lowered her voice. "No."  
  
Willow stared at her with wide eyes as Xander got out of the car and stood in the open door. "What's the holdup?" he asked, looking from Willow to Buffy, not even sparing a glance in Spike's direction.  
  
Spike returned the favor as he came over to stand beside Willow. The three occupants of the sidewalk stared at each other, ignoring Xander completely.  
  
"No?" Willow repeated, unable to process the word correctly. No, Buffy wouldn't move on, or wouldn't accept it, or... something else altogether? "You were somewhat fine with things last night," she mumbled, trying to figure out what had happened between then and now, but she couldn't come up with anything. "What happened?"  
  
Buffy sighed, her face softening as she dropped her defensive stance. "Nothing. I just-- nothing. Can we go now?"  
  
Willow shook her head, not at all satisfied with Buffy's non-answer. "Funny how it's still rude," she chided Buffy. "We can wait--" a set of halogen lamps pierced the darkness, bathing them all in pools of light, forcing them to squint as the car owning them pulled up directly in front of Xander's car, parking the wrong way.  
  
"Oh, look," Buffy pointed out unnecessarily, "Giles is here. Let's go." She hurried to the passenger's side door and waited for Willow to join her.  
  
The headlights cut off, and Giles leaned out of his open window and gestured for Spike to get in.  
  
"Giles," Xander called out, "you do realize that you're in America now, don't you? We drive on the right side of the road here."  
  
"No, you drive on the wrong side of the road here," Spike tossed back, beating Giles to the punch. Giles looked a bit disappointed as he ducked his head back in the window.  
  
Willow, feeling an even deeper sense of doom, tossed an apologetic look to her friends and ran over to Spike, stopping him in front of Giles' car. "Wait."  
  
He halted and turned, rolling his eyes at her good-naturedly. "Told you before, Willow, you're not going to die."  
  
She nodded, not completely sure of that herself, and took a few steps closer, not wanting everyone listening to their conversation. "Just... do me a favor? Don't die?"  
  
He laughed and sat down on the hood of Giles' sporty red car, hooking a boot on the fender. "Do I look like the suicidal sort?"  
  
"Of course not," she said, dismissing the comment with a wave of her hand. "But, this is Sunnydale, and an unknown bond thing... and you aren't exactly known for being the careful type."  
  
He nodded seriously and reached for her hand, pulling her closer to him, until her knees touched the bumper and she could feel the heat the car was giving off as it idled. "I'm not the careful type," he agreed, "but I'm also not careless. I look out for myself. It's kind of my number one priority most times." His eyebrows raised, waiting for her acknowledgment, when she gave it, he stood up and pulled her closer.  
  
"Hey," Xander yelled angrily, and she tried to pull away, to unwrap her own arms from around Spike's waist, but he held her still.  
  
Unbelievably, it was Buffy who halted Xander's possible mad dash to tear them apart. "Leave them alone," she told him in no uncertain terms.  
  
"But," Xander protested, his voice almost a whine.  
  
"Xander," Buffy warned, but that was all Willow heard, though she could imagine Buffy giving him one of her silencing looks.  
  
Willow sighed against Spike's chest, feeling quite content to stay there forever, wrapped up in the comforting arms of the man she... cared about. Just a little, she admitted.  
  
When she relaxed against him, he groaned, tightening his arms around her as his voice whispered in her ear, husky and full of promise. "You have no idea how much I want you, do you?"  
  
So stunned and startled at the feelings the question sent fluttering through her, she pulled back, and got another shock, one she could've lived without. Apparently, when she'd pulled away, she'd moved so quickly that she'd taken Spike by surprise, because he had to drag his eyes from where they were fixed to Buffy's face. When his eyes finally dropped to Willow's, there was a whole lot of wariness there. She dropped her arms and stepped away from him, hurt causing her throat to tighten and her chest to feel heavy.  
  
Not wanting to look, but needing to, she turned her head, seeing Buffy standing beside Xander at the driver's side door, her eyes on them, her face blank. That meant she was hiding something. Keeping something to herself. And Willow had an idea that that something had to do with Spike.  
  
"I've gotta go," she told him, thinking to make a hasty exit. But then she remembered why they were there, and what they were doing, and there was no hastiness involved in her exit. She was happy they weren't going to the same place, because she really wanted to be away from him right now. "You should go," she said, gesturing to Giles and Dawn. "They're waiting."  
  
"Are you--" he began, but Willow ignored him, walking stiffly away, feeling as if her body was hardening with each step she took. And when she reached the car door, she just knew she was going to break into a million pieces and drop to the sidewalk, to be crunched under boot heels and stray tires, possibly a kid's bouncing ball. But she didn't shatter, her hand closed on the door handle and pulled it open without a problem. Climbing inside, she shut the door with a quiet, but firm click and stared out the side window.  
  
Xander climbed in behind the steering wheel, unaware that anything had happened. Unaware that Willow's heart was starting to feel painfully empty. Buffy went around the car, circling in front of it, and Willow tried not to look, but she couldn't keep her eyes from darting out the windshield. She caught a furtive glance between Buffy and Spike, which turned into a glare from both of them.  
  
When she forced herself to look fully at Spike, she saw the blank impassiveness she was used to seeing from him before the bond started. His eyes bored into hers as he stared through the windshield, straight at her. Or so she imagined. Returning her eyes to the side window, she ignored him, and waited for Xander to start the car and leave. As soon as Buffy's door shut, Xander started the car, but didn't immediately leave.  
  
He grabbed something from beside him, and held it to his mouth as it crackled and hissed before falling quiet. "This is Red Eagle, calling the Penis-mobile. I repeat, this is Red Eagle calling the Penis-mobile." His chortling laughter normally would've had Willow snorting with laughter herself, but she couldn't find anything stronger than a strained smile to toss at him when he looked into the rearview mirror at her.  
  
"Xander," Buffy gasped, smacking him on the arm. "My sister's in that car. She's listening to the walkie talkie... heck, she's probably controlling the thing. So, there'll be no penis talk around her. Ever."  
  
Xander groaned, dropping his head back onto the headrest. "Fine, fine, no penis talk, but what do you suggest I call him?"  
  
The radio crackled, then Dawn's voice, sounding tinny and far away, came over the walkie talkie. "Giles asks that you please not say that ever again," she giggled, sticking her hand out the back window and waving at them.  
  
All eyes were suddenly riveted to Giles' car as he turned in his seat toward the back, where Dawn was sitting. The walkie talkie went from static, to silence a few times, and then Giles' broken words cut through. "..this thing. Can't--" static. "... hold this one?" More static, and then Dawn's voice as well as Spike's came over the walkie.  
  
"No, Giles, hold the blue one down. Let go of the--" Dawn was trying not to laugh as she explained how to use the walkie talkie, but they could all hear it, even across the radio.  
  
"--a bloody button down, you stupid git?" Spike growled, and Willow lifted her eyes to him. She couldn't see him clearly in the darkness, but she could see him enough to know that he was stretched out in his seat, looking bored. Inside, he was probably seething. It was just a gut feeling. Or maybe it was because that's how he'd always looked to her.  
  
"Let's just go," Giles' voice snapped over the walk talkie, startling her out of her musings. Her eyes focused once again, and she found herself staring straight at Spike. As they drove past Giles' car, she felt his eyes on her, but refused to look.  
  
The drive to their destination was a quiet one for Willow, as she contemplated this new news. No, not new, old news really. She'd known he was in love with Buffy, but that he'd stared over at Buffy while touching her, holding her, whispering words to her... it hurt. So much. So much more than it should.  
  
Buffy turned in her seat once to ask her if she was all right. Willow nodded and smiled until Buffy accepted her answer and turned back around in her seat with a slightly less worried frown. The truth was that she was so far from being okay. Once again, she'd done the wrong thing by letting her heart lead her into waters best not traversed. Again. Thankfully she'd found out in time, before her heart was more involved than it was.  
  
Glancing out the window at the nighttime scenery flying by, she listened to Xander and Dawn tell jokes to each other on the walkie talkies, and tried not to think. That lasted all of ten seconds. If she was completely honest with herself, what hurt most was that Spike hadn't pretended to care about her at all as he seduced her and manipulated her into his bed. She'd just assumed he felt something. Assumed he was trying not to think of Buffy while touching Willow, trying not to look at Buffy as he whispered in Willow's ear. Hers, damn it. Not Buffy's.  
  
A few minutes later, she realized they were slowing down, and parking. Looking at her surroundings, she had to laugh harshly. They were in the parking lot of the hospital, just like Spike had predicted. Too bad he hadn't predicted her... what? Heartbreak? No, not a broken heart, just a slightly bruised one. Scratched and banged up a little.  
  
Taking a deep breath, wanting this over as soon as possible so she could get back home to be alone, maybe eat a pint or two of ice cream, she left the relative safety of the backseat and stood there, looking around. She'd expected to feel a worsening of anxiety the further they got from each other, maybe an internal warning system, but there was nothing. Not even a tingling.  
  
Just as she started to move away from the car to join Xander and Buffy, they jumped forward, halting her progress.  
  
"No! Stay right there," Buffy told her, physically holding her arm to keep her still.  
  
"We've got this mapped out to exactly five miles," Xander explained, pointing at the ground with the walkie talkie. "When Giles and Spike are in place, we'll very slowly, and very carefully walk with you. Just... wait." He held his hands out soothingly, as if she were a savage beast about to attack him.  
  
She smiled a little, for real this time, and leaned back against the car door. "Okay, staying in this spot until further notice," she told them. Looking curiously at the numbered markings on the ground, she had to wonder when they'd had the time to come out here and mark this parking lot with chalk. Pink chalk. "Does Spike get blue chalk?" she asked with a chuckle.  
  
"Yep," Buffy answered, "although, Xander tried to make me use pink." She grinned sideways at Xander.  
  
"It was the least I could do for him," Xander tossed back, completely serious. "I mean, seriously, what do you get for the vampire who 'accidentally' sexes up your best friend?" Lifting the walkie talkie, he moved slightly away from them. "Giles?"  
  
As the walkie talkie crackled to life, Buffy nudged Willow's arm to get her to look up from her sudden perusal of her shoes. "You okay? Did something happen earlier?" She frowned, like she was unsure if she should interfere or not, then gave in and did just that. "Did Spike say or do something to you?" She leaned closer conspiratorially. "'Cause, I can't beat him up anymore, but I could give you an Indian Rub that'll make him smart a little."  
  
Willow snorted in amusement and smiled at Buffy. "No, he didn't do or say anything wrong. I'm just nervous," she lied, and rather expertly if Buffy's acceptance was any indication. "Um, I was wondering sort of the same thing. Did something happen between you and Spike last night?"  
  
Buffy's head shot up and her eyes darted from Willow's face to her own hands before moving over to Xander a few feet away. "Why? I mean, what do you mean?"  
  
"Oh, that's reassuring," Willow laughed, the tight knot in her stomach growing bigger. "It's just that... when we talked last night, in the bathroom, you said you were sort of okay with the whole me and Spike thing. Not that you were really, really happy and glow-y about it, but, you know, you said you were okay with it. And that you wouldn't be terribly opposed to Spike and I dating if that's what we wanted, as funny as that is, but now..." she trailed off, hoping Buffy would take up the slack and deny it. Deny it all, and tell Willow that nothing whatsoever had happened between her and Spike. That she was being silly.  
  
Buffy didn't deny it. She nodded, and once again dropped her eyes to her hands, then raised them with a sigh. "It wasn't just a random vampire that I saw Angel in last night. That I kissed. It was--"  
  
"Spike," Willow whispered, hating herself for the twinge of jealousy that shot through her. Hating herself also because it didn't go away, it actually stuck around and decided to invite its friends, envy and paranoia. "You kissed Spike."  
  
"Yeah, and it really took me aback. I mean, more than aback, I was all... aside and a-front too." Her voice lowered enough to keep the conversation between just the two of them. "What freaked me out more than anything, even more than the fact that I threw myself at Spike was that he didn't take advantage of the situation. Forcing me to realize that he's not as bad as I've always made him out to be. Though he's still evil," she added.  
  
Willow frowned, positive she'd heard Buffy wrong. Spike hadn't taken advantage of Buffy while she was vulnerable and kissing him? Kissing him with all the love she felt for Angel? "Really?" she asked skeptically, not allowing herself to believe it. Even if it was true, so what? What did it mean except that he wasn't stupid enough to tick Buffy off. "He was probably trying to get on your good side," she said softly. "He's smart enough to know that a small instant of pleasure isn't going to end well after your memory returned, so he twisted it to make himself look good, hoping it would help his cause in the long run."  
  
Buffy was shaking her head before Willow even got through the first sentence. "No, after a year of watching him do just that, I know the difference between manipulation and reality. This was real, because he was angry with himself for stopping the kiss. I didn't see it right away, but afterwards, when I had time to think about it, I know I saw self recrimination."  
  
Willow still didn't believe it. She'd seen the look on his face as he gazed at Buffy, the want and need in his voice, and knew it had to have been directed at Buffy as much as his look was. Nodding and smiling, a favorite pastime of hers lately, she raised her voice. "Are they ready yet?"  
  
Xander held up a finger and continued to listen to the walkie talkie, which was pressed tightly against his ear. She could barely hear it from her spot a few feet away, and thought maybe the distance was too great for them to work perfectly. Should've bought the expensive ones, she thought absently.  
  
"Willow," Buffy said softly, tossing a quick look Xander's way. Seeing he was still occupied, she continued. "I didn't intend for it to happen, and I don't think it changes anything between you two, so whatever is there... it's still there. You know, if anything is there."  
  
"I know," Willow told her. "But, there's nothing there, so there's nothing to worry about."  
  
Buffy nodded, though Willow could see she was far from convinced. "Okay. If that's how it is..."  
  
"It is," Willow said, her smiling straining to the point of breaking. "So, when does this show get on the road?"  
  
"And that, dear ladies, is the question of the day. Or, night," Xander said, joining them again. He held the walkie talkie up, glaring at it with eyes filled with disappointment. "This stupid thing isn't exactly old reliable, but it works. It's just a little faint sounding is all."  
  
"Are they ready?" Buffy asked, positioning herself at the long five mile chalk mark drawn at the end of a parking space. Facing Willow, she breathed in deeply, looking ready to take on a football team of vampires.  
  
"Yep. Just waiting on us to assume the position," Xander answered, doing just that. He positioned himself on one side of Buffy, leaving a space between them for Willow to walk through. "Whenever you're ready, Willow. But, just... tell us before you go."  
  
Feeling so much like a baby about to take her first steps, Willow informed them, "I'm about to move my right leg. I repeat, I am about to move my right leg."  
  
They both grinned at her, and relaxed their postures. "Okay," Buffy laughed. "We get it. Overreaction gal and guy are gone."  
  
"Yeah, completely sort of not all the way gone," Xander agreed. "But, you know, we just don't want anything to happen to you is all."  
  
"I know," Willow told them, grateful to have friends like them, friends that cared about her and wanted to take care of her. "And I'm appreciative, really, but could you maybe not make me even more nervous than I already am?"  
  
They consulted each other, frowning and gesturing to one another, before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, we can do that," Xander agreed.  
  
"I think so, yeah," Buffy added.  
  
"Okay, I know you're trying to make this easier, and make me laugh and lighten up and relax, but I gotta tell you. Not gonna happen."  
  
"No?" Xander inquired, frowning.  
  
"Not so much," Willow told him. "Can I move now?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked calmly over to them, stopping just before the chalk mark. The part of the parking lot they were in was deserted now, and probably didn't get a lot of traffic during the day, since it was in the very back of the hospital, as far away as possible, almost to the street. However, she couldn't help wondering, then asking, how the chalk marks had remained there with all the driving over that had to have occurred at least a little, not to mention the asphalt was darkened with water. But, the chalk mark was there, all pink and perfect.  
  
"Magick," Buffy answered, shrugging lightly. "Giles enchanted the chalk to stay until we say the magick word, releasing it back into the wild."  
  
"Oh, neat," she said, smiling at them as they waited patiently. "Magick chalk. Ooo, like Simon."  
  
Buffy looked back and forth between them in confusion. "Who's Simon?"  
  
Xander laughed, nearly giggling as he sang, "Hello my name is Simon, and I like to do draw-rings." His horribly massacred British accent had them all giggling by the time he was done. "The chalk kid from Captain Kangaroo! He was so cool."  
  
"What's happening over there?" Giles asked, his faint voice crackling over the walkie talkie. "We're waiting for Willow to make the first move."  
  
Xander lifted the walkie talkie to his mouth, still grinning, but no longer laughing. "Sorry, she's nervous, we're just trying to get her to relax. She's about to go now."  
  
"All right--" Giles sent back.  
  
"Good luck, Willow!" Dawn yelled quickly, finishing just as the button was released.  
  
Willow opened her mouth to tell them she was moving, but then decided to just do it. Go for it before her nerves got the better of her. She took one, then two steps up to the line, and kept on going for five steps. A feeling she was somehow familiar with flowed through her from head to foot. It wasn't something she knew, or had felt before, but it was definitely familiar. And yet, she felt no different than normal, there was no impending doom rushing through her any longer. Smiling widely, thinking maybe they'd gotten off lucky with this part of the bond, she turned toward her friends, walking backward.  
  
"Nothing," she laughed, holding her hands out from her sides. "Nothing's happening."  
  
"Willow, stop!" Giles yelled over the walkie talkie, and her blood ran cold.  
  
Not only did she stop walking, but she stopped breathing as well. Stopped trying to act like Spike didn't matter to her. Stopped lying to herself about a lot of things. "Spike?" she whispered. "Is he okay?"  
  
Xander and Buffy ran over to her, Buffy holding her hand reassuringly as Xander tried to get hold of Giles. "It's okay, Willow. I'm sure he's fine." Even so, Buffy watched Willow's face for a sign of pain or distress, ready to pick her up and run with her to the hospital if anything happened.  
  
"Giles!" Xander yelled for the third time, slapping the walkie talkie against his hand when there was nothing but static on the other end. Walking away from them, toward the car, he pushed the button again, demanding a response from Giles. "Answer me, damn it, Giles. Willow's about to lose it here."  
  
"... is fine. A vampire-- us-- took care of it. Everything's fine now. Do you copy?" Giles demanded right back.  
  
"We copy," Xander said, a sigh of relief working its way past his lips, and Willow and Buffy followed suit. "And next time? Don't freakin' scare us like that again!" he yelled.  
  
"Well I'm so very sorry my bodily beating got in the way of holding your hand," Giles snapped back. "Next time I'll make sure to drag my bruised and bloodied body to the walkie talkie to keep you apprised of the situation."  
  
"He does sarcasm way to well," Buffy snorted, yanking the walkie talkie out of Xander's hand as he was about to smash it against the hood of his car. "We still need it," she remarked, pushing the button and bringing it to her mouth. "Is Spike past the marker?" she asked.  
  
Willow didn't care at this point. All she cared about was that Spike was all right. Not dead. Not laying on the ground, convulsing and bleeding from his ears. Releasing her fear wasn't an easy thing to do, and she really had to work hard not to drop to her knees, sobbing. Instead of being weak, she straightened her back and bolstered her courage, preparing to begin her walk again.  
  
"No," Dawn answered, "hold on for a second." Silence descended, then she came back on, considerably more subdued than she'd been in the car. "Giles is hurt," she informed them. "A vampire attacked us, but Spike killed it. Giles--"  
  
"Is he all right?" Buffy asked, her voice thick with worry. "Does he need help?"  
  
"No," Dawn answered, her own voice shaking a bit. "Um, he says he's fine, but--" she lowered her voice, obviously not wanting Giles to hear her. "Spike thinks his arm his broken. Giles' arm, not Spike's."  
  
Buffy bit her lip in indecision, but before she could settle on a course of action, Giles was back on the walkie talkie.  
  
"I'm fine. Let's get the test over with, and then I'll make my weekly visit to hospital." His voice was strained, his teeth practically grinding. "Spike's in place, is Willow?"  
  
"Um," Buffy looked over at Willow to see her still in the same spot. "Yeah, she's past the marker."  
  
Willow took one step away from her friends, and then another, and another. Once again the familiar feeling shot through her, and she was left to wonder at it. "Still nothing," she informed them. "I don't think--" suddenly, all the air rushed out of her in one breath and she fell to her knees, very much like she hadn't wanted to do earlier. Pain shot through her eyes and burrowed deep into her brain, forcing a cry of agony out of her mouth.  
  
Both Buffy and Xander rushed to her aid, Xander yelling over the walkie talkie while Buffy helped her up, dragging her back the way she'd come, but it was too late. The link was now complete, in every way possible. She could hear Spike's thoughts, feel his emotions, and feel the pain in his head from the chip... and then it was gone, and she was alone again. "I think-- I think that whatever that was, it's gone now," she whispered through a throat raw from screaming.  
  
"You ask me, you think too much sometimes," Spike told her solemnly.  
  
She stopped and looked around, already knowing she wouldn't see him. He was still five miles away, it was just his thoughts she could hear.  
  
"Not completely done," she sighed, resting her head on Xander's shoulder.  
  
"Are you all right?" Xander asked gently, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek.  
  
They both watched her anxiously as she straightened up and took a deep breath. "I'm fine, but you need to not touch me. Spike doesn't like it."  
  
Xander frowned angrily. "First of all, so what? Second of all, how the hell does he know I was touching you?"  
  
Buffy looked around cautiously, as if Spike, fangs and claws flashing, was about to hop out of the darkness and attack them. "Good questions."  
  
An exhausted sigh worked its way past her lips. "When we were first bound together, we could read each other's minds, hear each other's thoughts. This is sort of like that, only stronger. Not only do I hear his thoughts, and vice versa, but I feel them."  
  
"Feel them?" Buffy repeated. "You feel his thoughts, or you feel what he feels along with a certain thought?"  
  
"Bingo on the second one, Slayer." Willow raised an eyebrow at them.  
  
"Wow, Will, that was a really scary impression of Spike you did there." Xander took a step away from her, and then another as she laughed, not entirely in a Willow-like way. "Let's not do that often, hmm?"  
  
"Spike, get out of my head," Willow ground out, closing her eyes tightly, fighting the urge to punch Xander. "I am not hitting him," she said in exasperation.  
  
"Ruin my fun," Spike chided her, sighing heavily.  
  
She rolled her eyes and stood up. "Spike, get out of my-- hey!" Her hand shot out and settled on Buffy's shoulder. As with the last time this had happened, Willow hadn't been the one to move her hand. "No feeling Buffy up in my body, Spike!" Her anger got through to him, and he removed her hand, leaving it alone.  
  
"Relax," Spike sighed, his words lingering in her mind like a caress. "I had to check out how far this thing went." His voice turned lecherous and she could just imagine the smirk on his face. "You're lucky I didn't make you touch yourself," he laughed.  
  
"Yeah, well," she huffed, ignoring Buffy and Xander as she stalked toward the marking line. "Maybe I should make you touch yourself, you pervert."  
  
"Go ahead," he chuckled, "give Dawn and Giles a nice show."  
  
Tired of arguing with him, and not really in the mood for it, she ignored him as well. A few seconds later, as she neared the car, she felt a tugging on her mind, she closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to figure out what it was and where it was coming from. Was it magick, or the bond? As she followed the tenuous thread connecting her mind with Spike's, she heard his thoughts growing louder, drowning out her own until they faded again, and she was alone. Thank goodness. Opening her eyes, she mumbled, "If that's all we get when we're too far apart, we definitely got off lucky-- Ahh!"  
  
Dawn and Giles were there, in the parking lot-- no, not a parking lot. They were in an alley. A nice dark alley, with pastel blue chalk markings all around them. Dawn was kneeling beside Giles, who was cradling his left arm close to his chest. His very broken, and bloody left arm.  
  
Both of them were now staring at her as well. Spike wasn't usually one to scream, so it had to be a little odd seeing and hearing him do just that. Seeing the pain on Giles' face though, she momentarily let the being-in-Spike's-body part go, and ran over to join them, dropping to her knees in front of Giles.  
  
"Oh, God, Giles, are you all right? Ew, that looks really gross," she commented, wincing in sympathy at the gash and bulging bone sticking out of his forearm. "Definitely broken," she muttered. "Um, I could try to do a healing spell," she told him, raising her hands and letting them hover over his arm for a second before dropping them back to her thighs, "but I'm afraid I won't be able to set it right and then you'd have to have it re-broken, which, ow, so, I think hospital instead."  
  
Both Dawn and Giles were still staring at her in open-mouthed shock, not wrapping their minds around the situation as quickly as she had. Giles climbed laboriously to his feet, still staring at her. Dawn followed suit, as did Willow. Dawn lifted the walkie talkie to her mouth, eyes still fixed to Willow's face. Though, that would be Spike's face, wouldn't it?  
  
"Buffy, Xander... is-- is Spike there with you?" she asked casually.  
  
Buffy's voice came on, slightly breathless. Oh, God, what if she'd just fought Spike and killed him? Hurt him? "He's..." Buffy giggled, and Willow's eyes widened. "He's here," she laughed, "and he seems to have brought a little something along with him." She paused and then they all heard Willow's voice cussing them out in a nifty new British accent.  
  
Willow grabbed the walkie talkie from Dawn's loose hand and walked a few feet away from them, feeling really peculiar in Spike's body. Her stride was much longer, and things were there that didn't use to be... not on her anyway. "Buffy, um... is everyone all right?" she asked softly, hardly noticing Spike's deep, rich, unaccented voice coming through instead of her own.  
  
Buffy laughed a quick yes before breaking off into more gales of laughter. "I'm sorry, Willow," she gasped, "I just can't help it. He's-- well, you're pacing back and forth, and growling, and it's really, really funny."  
  
Willow thought that was debatable, but that was because she had a little inside information. "Buffy, Spike's a vampire."  
  
"Duh," was Buffy's overly simplistic answer, but then she stopped laughing and calmed down considerably. "Oh. Xander, you might want to stop taunting Spike. 'Cause he's-- hey!"  
  
"Willow," her own voice crackled over the walkie talkie, British accent sounding a little weird, "I want my own body back. Undo whatever you did."  
  
"I didn't do anything, Spike. I think it's part of the bond." She tossed a quick look toward Giles, who was looking way too pale, and Dawn, who was equally as pale as she tried to wrap a silk scarf she'd been wearing, around the wound. "Giles needs to go to the hospital, so I think we're on our way over there."  
  
"First," Giles gasped, as Dawn tightened the scarf, "first, we need to try to reverse this... thing. Go back to the five mile mark, and tell Spike to do the same." He smiled encouragingly at Dawn who was looking quite shaken after her nursing duties.  
  
"Are you sure?" Willow asked uncertainly. He nodded and she sighed, pressing the blue button on the walkie talkie. "Spike, go back to the five mile mark, that might reverse it. Or so Giles thinks."  
  
"Sure, pawn the blame off on me in case it doesn't work," Giles laughed weakly, gulping a few times.  
  
Dawn tossed her an impatient and worried frown, looking so much like Buffy caught in a moment of indecision, that Willow had to smile as she joined them at the five mile mark.  
  
"He'll be okay," she assured Dawn, though she was less sure of that than she'd been a minute go. He was going into shock. Pressing the button again, she informed the others that she was in position.  
  
"Bloody hell," her voice growled back. "It's not happening, Willow. Do something," he ordered.  
  
"Fine," she sighed back. "Giles, gimme your keys. Dawn, get in the car." Sliding a shoulder under Giles' unhurt arm, she helped him to the car, setting him gently in the front seat as Dawn climbed in back. Willow climbed in behind the steering wheel, strapping herself in and starting the car. She looked around the dark alley, preparing to back out, but not knowing which way to go. "Uh, where are we?"  
  
"Fifth and Vine," Dawn answered, anxiously sitting forward in her seat. "Hurry, Willow."  
  
"Don't crash us please," Giles gasped out. "I'd like to keep this car."  
  
"Oh, please," Willow muttered, backing expertly out of the alley to the right, and shifting into gear, pulling out onto the street. "Unlike Anya, I actually *have* a license."  
  
"*Now* he lets me drive his new car," Spike mumbled in her head. Spotting the walkie talkie in Dawn's hand by her head, she realized he wasn't in her head anymore. Just on the walkie talkie.  
  
"Shut up, Spike," Giles ground out, shifting toward the door to keep his arm from jarring on the seat as they went over bumps.  
  
"Shut up, Spike," Dawn said into the walkie talkie, before releasing the button. Half a second later, she pressed it again, and added, "Giles' words, not mine." Again she released the button, and again she pressed it and added, "Although, yeah, hello, shut up, Spike."  
  
Willow glanced back at Dawn in the rearview mirror wondering what had her so ticked off at Spike this time. "Dawnie?" Returning her eyes to the road, she alternately watched Dawn sigh and roll her eyes, and kept a close watch on where she was headed.  
  
"What?" Dawn huffed. "He's a jerk. One minute he's in love with Buffy, the next he's sleeping with you."  
  
Sighing heavily, Willow glued her eyes to the road again. "That was--"  
  
"An accident," Giles and Dawn repeated together.  
  
Now it was Willow's turn to huff. "Well it was. We were both asleep, it wasn't like we planned it."  
  
Dawn snorted rudely, leaning forward again. "I know how sex works, Willow. And I really don't think it can happen accidentally."  
  
"Well," Willow admitted, "I thought he was Oz. He thought... actually, I don't know what he thought, but by the time I realized who he was, it was too late, and–"  
  
"Oh, God, kill me now," Giles groaned, though not in pain this time. The look of distaste and disgust on his face was enough to make both girls laugh.  
  
"Sorry, Giles. I'm just saying, it wasn't intentional." One by one she rubbed her hands, which had started to tingle a little bit during her explanation, onto Spike's jeans, wincing as the sensitive flesh touched the rough fabric. "Are vampires super sensitive to touch?" she asked Giles.  
  
He frowned, shaking his head at her. "No, not really. At least, I've never heard it mentioned before. I believe it's just their eyes, ears, and smell." His eyes fell to her hands, which were barely touching the wheel now. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Holding the steering wheel with only her fingertips helped, but it left a lot of control behind. They were halfway to the hospital, and no traffic was around on the side streets she was taking, but she still wasn't comfortable with the little bit of control she now had over the car. The tingling in her hands had grown, and by now she could hardly stand to have them touching air, let alone anything else.  
  
"Willow?" Dawn called, tapping her on the shoulder. "Want me to ask Spike?"  
  
Shrugging out from under Dawn's touch, she shook her head. "No, this isn't normal. Don't touch me, Dawnie, it hurts." Pulling quickly to the side of the road, she jumped out of the car, about to go nuts from the overwhelming sensitivity to everything touching her, including clothes. She was a guy now, so shirtless was okay for her, right? Trying to unbutton the red shirt, she fumbled with the top button before finally giving up with a groan.  
  
"Dawn, unbutton my shirt please. Hurry." When Dawn didn't move right away, Willow snapped at her. "Now, damn it!" Immediately feeling contrite, she apologized and shifted from foot to foot. "Please, Dawn."  
  
"Um," Dawn stalled, looking to Giles, who nodded his ascent. "Okay, but... don't vamp out on me, all right?"  
  
"Couldn't if I tried," Willow told her, debating on whether or not to remove her boots as well. "Spike's the vampire, not me."  
  
Dawn's eyes widened as she went to work on the small red buttons on Spike's shirt. "Are Buffy and Xander okay with him? He-- he won't hurt them, right?"  
  
Impatient with Dawn's carefully controlled fingers working the buttons of Spike's shirt, Willow grabbed it by the collar and tore it off of her in one fell swoop. "I don't think he will," she assured Dawn, feeling an immediate relief as air hit her skin rather than cloth. The relief was short-lived. Her legs were starting to tingle and she knew she'd be having to remove them soon as well. Time to go. "What's going on?" she groaned, then turned back to Giles. Tossing him the car keys, she backed away, gasping with each movement that brought cloth in touch with skin. "Something's seriously wrong. I–- I have to go. I have to find Spike."  
  
"Why?" he asked, climbing out of the car to circle around it. "If he's in the same shape as you, you can't help him."  
  
She shook her head, knowing deep down in her gut that the only way to stop whatever it was from happening, was to touch Spike. "He'll help," she tossed back, slowly backing away, crossing the street as she talked. "The other restriction of the bond is to touch each other once a week. I think I have to go touch Spike."  
  
"Ew," Dawn shuddered, looking almost as disgusted as Giles.  
  
"Go," Giles told her. "We'll be all right." When she hesitated for a second, he picked up the walkie talkie from the seat. "I'll call Xander. Go."  
  
She nodded, and was gone, running through the park toward the hospital. Each step she took jarred her, sending shots of electricity through her body, becoming more and more uncomfortable the further she got. Still, Spike was taller than her, and physically stronger, so she made good time, and hit the parking lot just a few minutes later. A few yards had trampled flowers in their gardens, and maybe a dog might've been let out through a fence that hadn't gotten closed, but she made it.  
  
Xander's car was nowhere in sight, and neither was Spike.  
  
"Damn it," she yelled in frustration, leaning over with her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. As soon as her palms touched the jeans, she screamed. Holding out her hands, palm up, she saw angry, raw, red flesh. They looked like they'd been burned, but without the blisters. The pain was similar too, and her legs and feet were feeling the same way. She had to find Spike. Now.  
  
"My house," she realized. Turning around on the small grassy knoll that ran along the sidewalk and parking lot, she ran face first into a low hanging tree branch. "Ow." That didn't quite capture the pain she felt at the moment, so she stomped her foot, and slid down the hill to land on her butt. Unable to rub the offending parts of her anatomy without hurting herself, she screamed out her frustration and anger. Spike was sure to have a big hulking bruise on his face from that stupid branch. This night was turning out to be one of the worst of her life. Her anger was boiling over, and the branch had to be the one to pay the price. She flung her hand out, muttering words she didn't even know she knew, and the branch broke off and went flying, impaling itself through a car's windshield across the street, setting off the alarm.  
  
Laying backward on the hill, for just a second before pushing herself to her feet and heading toward her house, she let out a sigh that would've done Dizzy Gillespie proud. And then she jumped up and took off running. She was almost in agony now. If she hadn't been extremely aware of the night creatures and even the human night dwellers of this town, she'd have shed every scrap of clothing Spike had on, but she was, so she didn't.  
  
"He better appreciate this," she mumbled, jumping over a lawn chair in the backyard she was currently trespassing in. A dog, in the yard next door, followed her along the chain link fence, barking every inch of the way. Paying it no more attention than she would a flea, she continued on her trek through the finest and not-so finest backyards of Sunnydale.  
  
As she neared her own block, she charged through the park, rounding a stand of trees and running straight into herself. Both she and Spike fell to the grass, staring at each other for only a split second before jumping at each other.  
  
"It hurts," she whispered, running her hands along Spike's arms. "It hurts. Why does it hurt?"  
  
"Don't know," he mumbled back, kissing her frantically, pressing as close to her as he possibly could. "Thought I was gonna go insane."  
  
"My hands are raw, and... ow." Feeling a slight lessening of the pain, she pulled away, showing him her-- his hands. He lifted one of them, tracing a finger down the palm, which was no longer as red as it was before. His touch left a trail of cooled skin in its wake. "Oh, that feels good," she encouraged, urging him to touch her some more. Her eyes slid shut at the relief pouring through her entire body just from his touch. "So good."  
  
"Mm," he agreed, leaning forward to kiss her again. She didn't pull away or stop, she had no intention of doing that, in fact. Not when it promised cooling relief. His hands trailed down her face and arms, and neither one stopped to ponder the fact that they were essentially touching themselves.  
  
"Gives the phrase, 'touching yourself' a whole new meaning, doesn't it?" he chuckled in her ear.  
  
Well, okay, she didn't stop to ponder it, but apparently he had. Sliding her hands up Spike's neck and back down his shoulders, she moaned, a sense of urgency pouring through her. Kissing him fully, she pressed up against him, feeling her new penis hardening the more he touched her. She held back a giggle at the thought, and concentrated on the feelings he was invoking, because wow, were they awesome.  
  
Laying back on the grass, she pulled him down on top of her, and rolled over, so she was on top. If they were going to do this, and they definitely were, then she wanted to be in charge. Had to be a guy thing. She reached down, ripping open her jeans, feeling her erection pop free of its confines. Unable to stop herself, she looked down and took a gander at herself. "Wow, I'm big," she muttered.  
  
Spike burst out laughing, and she was a little amazed at how sexy his laughter sounded when it was wrapped around her voice. Her stomach fluttered, like it always did when he was... well, nowadays it happened whenever he was near it seemed. Was this simply her own reaction to him, or was it his reaction to her?  
  
Spike's hands worked at the buttons of his jeans, shoving them down his hips at the same time as she pulled hers down. She kissed him, tasting what he tasted when he kissed her, feeling what he felt when he touched her, and was closer to him in that moment, despite the body switch, than she'd ever been to anyone else. Walking in someone else's shoes was a very intimate experience.  
  
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and prepared to have her first penis experience. Just as she was opening her eyes, a feeling of vertigo went through her and the world went blurry, then shifted. A moment later, the world righted itself, and she was staring up at Spike in his own body. Neither one paused to take in this new information, Spike thrust inside of her, and rolled over, letting her have a go at being on top.  
  
By this time, with all the extra sensory feelings shooting through the both of them, and the intimacy of sharing a body, in more ways than one, they were moving frantically against each other. Mating, not making love. She lifted herself up and down on him, settling her hands behind him on his raised thighs as she moved, using him for leverage, which didn't work that well.  
  
She moaned in frustration, needing touch more than friction. Leaning down to press herself against him fully, she settled her mouth roughly over his. He rolled them over and thrust quickly into her, setting up a quick pace that she matched and met with a gasp. She wasn't far from orgasm, and having been in his body, she knew he wasn't either. Helping both of them along, she caressed every inch of bare flesh she could reach, which, was quite a bit since she'd just made a mad dash through town shirtless. He touched her as well, his fingers moving with a little less gentleness, and a lot more skill.  
  
A minute later, they both found release, and arched into each other before collapsing. Silence descended as they calmed down, coming off that sexual, and magickal high. Spike lifted himself off of her, and rolled to the grass beside her, lifting his hips to pull up his pants.  
  
Willow slid hers up as well, buttoning them with shaking fingers. The pain was gone completely now, and they were back in there bodies, but once again they'd ended up sleeping together. She'd vowed not to do that again until she was sure he was at least trying to get over Buffy. Vowed to herself that she wouldn't let him slip into her heart and break it, but after tonight, she knew it was too late for that. He was already there, and setting up camp.  
  
Spike sat up beside her, lifting his knees and settling his forearms on them, hanging his head to stare at the grass. "God, that was--"  
  
"The pain is mostly gone," she said quietly, not caring to hear his thoughts on the matter right now. They'd deal with this later. And his Buffy obsession too. Maybe. "I guess all we needed to do was... touch."  
  
Spike chuckled flatly, sighing as he looked away. "I was doing just fine without the added encouragement."  
  
She stood up, smoothing down her blouse. "I should go check on Giles." Squinting into the darkness, she kicked lightly at the ground beneath her feet. "He looked pretty bad when I... oh, God, I just left them there."  
  
Spike stood up as well, avoiding looking at her just as much as she was avoiding him. "Giles called Xander to go get them. They're fine."  
  
She nodded, chancing a look at him. He was frowning, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back jean pocket. Huh, she hadn't even realized they were there, otherwise she may have thrown them out. Pointing in the direction of the hospital, she shrugged. "I should go."  
  
"Yeah," he agreed, drawing in a lungful of smoke. "Think I'll walk you. Don't wanna experience that again anytime soon." 


	13. Bonded part 13

Disclaimer: See part 1, 6, or 11.  
  
PART 13  
  
Spike yanked his half-smoked cigarette out of his mouth and stared at it irritably, twisting it back and forth between his fingers. The butt was thoroughly squished already, so he threw it to the parking lot with a sigh. Why was it that women were always what did him in? Their motives were never clear, their opinions vague, and their emotions... he'd need a few more centuries just to get a hint at what they felt. Certainly what they said and what they did were two different things.  
  
"Hey, Spike," Dawn said from where she'd been leaning against the wall with her arms over her chest, watching him pace for the past two minutes. "Holes in concrete? Not so easy to do. Even for a vampire."  
  
Spike halted his pacing, tossing her an annoyed look. "Oh, so you're talking to me again, are you?" Joining her at the brick wall, he ignored her comment as well as the benches spread here and there next to the hospital entrance. "What's the occasion?" he asked, digging in his pockets for another cigarette.  
  
"Happy Vampire Day!" she said excitedly, grinning at him.  
  
"Pet," he said in amusement, "that didn't work on me the first time you said it, it's not going to work now." That had been an odd night. Halloween, his first year in Sunnydale. He sighed softly, wishing things back to the way they used to be. Life was so much simpler then.  
  
"Yeah," she agreed, nodding wisely. The effect was ruined by a giggle. "But that wasn't a real memory, this is."  
  
"What do you want?" His mood was a horrible one, irritation was biting at his insides, snapping at him in much the same way he was snapping at Dawn. And who should be at the root of that irritation? None other than Willow, currently inside seeing Giles, and ignoring Spike. Whatever was wrong with her, it wasn't going to be fixed by a fantastic sex session spurred on by panic and desperation.  
  
The sex hadn't hurt though.  
  
Dawn sighed from beside him, drawing his attention back to Her Royal Annoyingness. "I wanted to apologize." She looked down at the aged concrete walkway, kicking at a pile of cigarette butts. "You saved us tonight. Again. And I realized that I've been an unfair brat."  
  
"You?" he teased, chuckling at her rolled eyes. She did that so well, mastered it really.  
  
"Shut up," she laughed, then turned serious again. "Who you love is your business, not mine. Not Xander's, not Buffy's... although--"  
  
"And you were doing so well," Spike told her, pushing away from the wall to light the cigarette he'd finally dug out of his shirt pocket. The shirt was a little the worse for wear, since Willow had ripped it off of herself, but as long as he kept it tucked in, and didn't move a lot, he wouldn't be mistaken for a stripper.  
  
"I know." Her head lowered, her foot kicking out again. "I just wish that you and Buffy were--" The doors around the corner swished open, and Dawn paused, waiting until the lone man hobbling by was out of earshot. "Well, you know what I wish."  
  
"Yeah," he muttered, "I know what you wish. I know what Buffy wishes, I know what every damn person in this town wishes except Willow." Drawing smoke into his lungs should've calmed him down, but at this point, he was so wound up, he didn't think anything but a tranquilizer dart would work.  
  
Dawn's forehead wrinkled up in confusion. "What do you mean? Doesn't Willow want you?"  
  
Spike chuckled at the naive question, and forced himself to sit on the ground against the brick wall before he really did wear a hole in the sidewalk. "She wants me, but not in the way I mean." Raising his knees, he rested his forearms on them, and let his hands hang free. "One minute, I'm thinking I've got it made, a life with Willow, you know, it's not so bad. In fact, it's kind of... appealing. Like her. She's..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words.  
  
"She's what?" Dawn asked, sitting beside him with her legs straight out in front of her. She folded her hands together and rested her chin on the tips of her fingers, resembling nothing more than a psychiatrist. "Hmm, pretty? That's a given. Smart? Also a given. And really sweet, the best friend a mystical ball of light could have."  
  
"Well, yeah, she's all that," he said, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture, choosing to ignore the dig she'd gotten in about her origins. He was sure he wasn't the only one sick of listening to her complain about it, and secretly thought she used it for sympathy. "But she's a lot more than that. She cares, way more than she should sometimes, for people and... and demons. Cares for them-- for me," he admitted, rolling his eyes at himself. He felt like a nancy-boy. He sighed, giving in to the feelings inside him. "She cares for me," he repeated, his voice stronger, more sure. "And her blood, God, it's like--" he paused, sighing again, "unbelievably rich. Everything a vampire craves is right there in her blood. But I think it's the feelings that make it that way, rather than just her blood--" he stopped, realizing Dawn wasn't even listening anymore, her ears were covered by her hands.  
  
When he stopped talking, she lowered her hands, raising an eyebrow at him. Her mouth, so much like Buffy's, twisted in disgust, also like Buffy's. "Spike," she said pleasantly, "do you have any idea just how disgusting that is? With the ew-factor being really high?" She stuck her tongue out as if she'd just eaten something sour.  
  
He smiled, shrugging. Dawn didn't get it, but he did. He was pretty sure he wasn't just angry because Willow was mad at him for some unknown reason. He could say with almost absolutely surety that... he loved Willow. A frown was his response to that thought as he remembered the situation, and the way things now stood. For reasons he couldn't grasp.  
  
"All right, I'll spare your delicate ears," he conceded. "Earlier tonight, at her house, I was thinking life wouldn't be so horrible with her around for a few centuries. Would be rather pleasant in fact. Now, though, I know better."  
  
"Okay," Dawn said slowly, shrugging with her hands. "Maybe... maybe you could tell me what the heck you're talking about, 'cause, I'm pretty clueless at the moment."  
  
"Willow," he sighed, drawing smoke into his lungs almost desperately. "And Buffy. I still love her, no matter how much I try not to. It's currently without all the scary stalker-type qualities everyone was so fond of, but it's still there." He leaned his head back, purposely banging it slightly. A little pain always helped clear the mind. "It's still there, and I think Willow knows it."  
  
Dawn leaned against his arm, offering him comfort without encroaching on his personal space too much. Instead of flinching away like he wanted to, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around her, smoothing his hand down her hair, playing with the end of it. It was so silky smooth and soft. He had a thing about hair, he knew this. He dropped her hair guiltily when she sighed and patted his leg comfortingly.  
  
"You love her, don't you?" she said quietly. She shifted against him, drawing in her legs. "Geez, Spike, who next? Anya?" She giggled when he tightened his arm threateningly. "Sorry. I'm kidding. But, wow, you're like the Elizabeth Taylor of vampires."  
  
He burst out laughing, not at all offended. He should be, but at the moment, he just couldn't find it in him. "What do you know about Liz?" he asked in amusement. "She's a whole two or three generations out of your time."  
  
She pushed away, staring at him incredulously. "Liz?" she repeated, her mouth open in a circle of awe. "You know Elizabeth Taylor?"  
  
He shrugged, not wanting to burst her bubble. "It was a long time ago." Waving his hand, dismissing her hero-worship while secretly basking in it, he sat back, moving her back as well. "I don't talk about it a lot. How do you know of her?"  
  
"I'm... not exactly sure," she admitted slowly, confusion marring her brow. "Maybe the monks were fans. Certainly wasn't me."  
  
He shook his head with a chuckle. "Why do you do that? You're real now, just accept it."  
  
"I accept it," she told him, shrugging carelessly. "But it's fun making other people freak about it."  
  
Spike frowned at her. All this time, he'd thought she was just a whiner, now he was finally figuring it out. She was a manipulator as well. "Hey, don't take out your being here, on others."  
  
"You mean the way you don't take out having the implant on others?" she asked hotly. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and stared off into the night, shifting a few inches away from him. "You're in love with my sister, and her best friend. I don't think you're a good candidate for doling out advice."  
  
Spike climbed to his feet, and stared down at her furiously. "Go back inside, Dawn."  
  
"No," she tossed back, glaring up at him, "I don't have to."  
  
He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to hurt her, or someone else nearby. After fighting the urge for a few seconds, he spun away, his boots scuffing loudly on the concrete. "All right," he said angrily, "conversation over. I'll not have some teenage bint passing judgment on my love life." Looking over his shoulder at her, he saw her eyes narrow and her mouth tighten into a thin line. Oh yeah, the monks had definitely modeled her after Buffy.  
  
Dawn jumped to her feet, glaring at him. "Yeah? Well, how about I tell Willow all about the fluffy feelings you're still harboring for my sister?" she asked spitefully.  
  
Spike slowly turned around to face her, furious with the little twit. "Stay out of it, Dawn, it's none of your business. How many people have to tell you that before you finally get it?"  
  
"How many people have to tell you to stay out of our lives before you do that?" she ground out, fisting her own hands by her sides. "Nobody wants you here, Spike. I'm the only champion you have, and you just took care of that."  
  
"Champion," he repeated. "Dawn, the only thing you've done recently is bitch and moan." He really had no patience to deal with her at the moment. "Go inside."  
  
"I said, I don't have to--" she screamed when he spun toward her, vamped out and snarling at her, their faces inches apart. "I am so telling Willow about Buffy," she hissed, running around the corner and back into the hospital.  
  
Spike chuckled, letting his face morph back. Stupid twit. Taking a drag off his cigarette, he leaned against the wall, sighing.  
  
  
  
Willow stepped back as Dawn ran through the entrance of the hospital. Keeping hidden behind a palm tree was easy enough since most of Dawn's attention was on herself and her pouting. Willow's own mind was on what she'd heard Spike say.  
  
He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her? Well, he didn't find it a horrible prospect at least. Had even looked forward to it. Wow.  
  
But he still loved Buffy. He'd out and out admitted it to Dawn. But he wanted to spend his life with her, with Willow. Okay, he sort of had to, with her being bound to him, but... he didn't mind. And he hadn't mentioned wanting to spend his life with Buffy. Or Drusilla. But mostly she was yay-ing over the part where he wanted to spend his life with her very own rich-blooded self.  
  
And that it bothered him that she knew he was still in love with Buffy.  
  
That meant... nothing that she could figure out. That he cared if she was hurting? But, how would he know she was hurting unless he knew she cared about him?  
  
Well, duh, of course he knew she cared about him, he'd even said so, and it really wasn't like her to sleep with just anybody. He had to know that.  
  
"Round and round you go..." she whispered, taking a deep breath and turning the corner to face Spike.  
  
He spun around as soon as she stepped into sight, almost as if he knew she was there. Bond, or vampire thing? Did he know she'd been standing there listening since she'd exited the hospital with the limping old man? Nah, he wouldn't have admitted any of that stuff if he'd known.  
  
No way.  
  
Willow stopped a few yards away, not sure what to say. Maybe start with a neutral topic, and something uninteresting to him. "Um, Giles is... fine. I mean, obviously he's not fine," she amended, "but, he'll recover. He'll be out of commission for a while though."  
  
Spike nodded, planting his cigarette between his lips.  
  
Willow nodded a few times as well, still at a loss as to what to say. She drew in a deep slow breath, just for something to do while he stared at her, then let it out in a rush, her shoulders dropping their overly-stiff posture. Before she knew it, she was speaking. She could've slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she was saying, but it was too late. "You're still in love with her."  
  
He watched the fading taillights of a car as it left the parking lot and headed out into the traffic of the street. "A little," he agreed, clearly reluctant to acknowledge more.  
  
"It's more than a little." She stopped in front of him, coughing lightly from the smoke in the air. "I saw the way you-- never mind." She was being brave, laying everything out on the line like this, due to exhaustion and spent worry, but she didn't think she was brave enough to tackle the Spike and Buffy kiss yet, or, more importantly, the Spike-looking-at-Buffy-while-he-told-Willow-he-wanted-her thing. Not here in front of the hospital.  
  
So she was giving him an out. If he wanted to take it, he could and she would move on without letting him know how much she-- loved him. Oh God.  
  
She swallowed a little desperately, feeling like she was drowning. "Um, this-- this thing between you and me, maybe it's not real. Maybe... maybe it's the bond." His eyes narrowed at her, but he didn't deny it. "So, we should just stop," she finished quietly.  
  
He didn't say anything, or look too broken up about it, so she nodded and started off in the general direction of her house, expecting him to follow. When he didn't, she turned around with a questioning look.  
  
"I'm sort of tired, and my house..." she shrugged, dropping her eyes to the ground as she once again started moving. "I guess it's not quite five miles," she muttered.  
  
"Confused isn't even on the same planet with me at the moment," she heard him mumble as he caught up. He looked sideways at her, holding her gaze. "I happen to think it is real, and that we should continue with it. Often." He winked at her with exaggerated lustfulness, forcing a smile from her.  
  
This is exactly why she liked him so much. He could make her smile with the smallest things. At the oddest times. But was it a healthy relationship? One that would last when he still loved someone else? She still loved Tara too, love didn't go away that quickly or easily, but she also didn't fool herself into thinking that she would choose Tara over Spike now. She wouldn't. Spike, on the other hand, very well might still choose Buffy over her. And she couldn't stand that.  
  
She stopped walking, facing him with determination, knowing that in order to break cleanly from him she would have to... break cleanly from him. State it plainly. "I don't want to."  
  
He frowned in her direction, taking a drag off his cigarette. "Don't want to what?" he asked in confusion.  
  
"Um, continue this," she elaborated, shrugging and resuming her walk home. She set her mouth in a firm, no nonsense line, her eyes straight ahead, so he would think she was telling the truth, 'cause, let's face it folks, she was lying like a cheap rug. Rolling her eyes at herself, she sighed and tried to calm her racing heartbeat, a surefire way to tell she was lying if ever there was one.  
  
Hopefully, he couldn't hear her quickened heartbeat or see her hands as she twisted them in front of her, because that was another sure way to tell she was lying.  
  
He grabbed her upper arm, pulling her to a halt and forcing her to face him. "Okay, I don't get it," he admitted, throwing his arms out from his sides helplessly. "I just don't get it. What happened?" he asked angrily. "One minute, you're all smiles and sunshine, the next, you're--" He stalked past her with a frustrated sigh, then stopped and turned back to face her. "You know what? I'm tired of trying to figure you out. How about you tell me what's wrong for once, rather than making me do all the work?"  
  
She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at him for a few seconds before dropping her gaze to the curb. She didn't want to tell him, because if she did, things were going to be said, things she couldn't take back. Things, that if said, wouldn't allow her to face him anymore if he laughed in her face. She looked up at him quickly, noting his scowl and uninvitingly angry eyes. "Nothing's wrong--" she started to say, but he wouldn't let her get away with the lie.  
  
"I don't believe that one bloody bit," he said unpleasantly. His hands curled around her upper arms as he dragged her closer to him. "Explain it to me, Willow," he ground out in a warning tone, "or so help me..."  
  
"Okay," she said softly, defeated in the face of such anger. She couldn't keep it from spilling out any longer, so, she told him. She stepped back, waiting until he released her arms before beginning. "I..." her voice came out in a whisper, so she cleared it and tried again. "I care about you." She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned down at the sidewalk. "More than I ever-- more than I want to. More than I ever imagined I could, you know? You're... soulless, an evil vampire. I'm a good-goody witch. It's-- it's wrong," she said, shaking her head at herself. "But that's how it is." She paused, clearing her throat again, but her voice still sounded low to her. "And I'm afraid." Seeing his eyes widen slightly in surprise, she shook her head quickly. "Not of you. Of me and you, us. The-- the getting hurt thing, 'cause let's face it, Spike, there's always hurt when feelings are involved. And what if it's just the bond, or what if you don't get over Buffy? I-- I couldn't stand it if that happened, because I'm already so deeply in... um, I care a lot," she backtracked oh-so suavely. She was sure he didn't notice her little slip-up, nope, not at all. Well, in for a penny... "Actually, um, I probably could use... that word--love--to describe some of these feelings in me," she whispered, smiling crookedly at her awkward admission.  
  
She was quite surprised that he was able to follow her ramble, and started to wonder if he actually had, because he was still staring at her. Looking shocked. Quite taken aback really. He'd fallen silent way back in the beginning of her sad little rant, and now... his face was blank.  
  
Was he happy? she wondered. Or about to laugh at her? Did he like that she loved him? Was he annoyed? Irritated? Maybe he'd only wanted to know why she was angry, not have her declare her love for him, and now his face was all impassive and not giving anything away.  
  
Mortified, she dropped her gaze to her hands and tried to move past him. "Never mind. I-- I just-- forget everything I said. Pretend like..." but wait. She couldn't just leave it like that. She had to know. Turning back around, she tilted her head to the side, taking in his expressionless face. "You kissed her last night."  
  
Finally he did something, made a move, gave her the smallest hint that he hadn't turned to stone in front of her eyes.  
  
He sighed and tilted his head back in frustration, rubbing his hands across his face. "Ya know, things used to be so much simpler when it was just me and Dru and our insatiable bloodlust." Looking across the space between them, seeing her eyes narrow, he chuckled, shaking his head at himself. "She kissed me. And," he added, "she probably left out the part where I was the one who put a stop to it."  
  
"She told me, even defended you, but she didn't see..." now it was her turn to sigh, because here was the other part she didn't want to discuss. Not now, not here. Maybe not ever. Did she have to tell him? Really, who said she had to tell him anything? It was her decision and she chose no. Indeed-y no. But then she went ahead and started to anyway, because she was curious and he was standing there clueless. "Do you even realize what you did?" Looking at him closely, she shook her head, marveling at his obtuseness. "You have no idea," she told him sadly. How could he not know it would hurt her to see him staring so intensely at Buffy while saying such sweet words to her?  
  
He shrugged in frustration, sighing heavily as he tossed her a frown. "Here's a thought: Tell me!"  
  
Her own frustration broke through and she huffed right back at him. "You," she told him. "That's what I'm talking about. You and Buffy." She darted her eyes away from him, afraid to see the pity and laughter that was sure to show up. "You looking at Buffy while telling me just... ooo, I want you so much," she said snidely, her sarcasm level rather high at the moment. "Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" she asked.  
  
"I didn't-- I never did that," he protested, still looking confused and angry. "When I said that to you, I meant it. If I looked at Buffy at all, I didn't even notice it." He moved closer, reaching up to touch her face, but pulled his hand back before touching her. "You're the only one I want, Willow."  
  
Her eyes dropped to his hand wistfully, wishing he'd touched her, reassured her by smoothing his hand down her cheek, across her brow, anything. "At this moment, yeah, I believe that, but--"  
  
"No," he disagreed, lifting his hand again, tracing his fingers along her cheek, "not just now. I always want you. It's--" he sighed, looking defeated. "It's like this constant... ache that won't let me be, and I can't not want you. Buffy has nothing to do with this anymore. My feelings for her are... they're nothing compared to what I feel for you. I lo--"  
  
A snarl sounded behind him, interrupting what he'd been about to say. Willow forced back a groan of frustration, looking over Spike's shoulder, her eyes widening as she spotted a Litchock.  
  
"Spike!" She grabbed his arm, yanking him out of the way. A flash of red shot by them. "Litchock," she mumbled, "it's a Litchock."  
  
A tree across the street burst into flames. The ball of magick incinerating it.  
  
Willow's eyes widened even further in the light from the fire. "Oh, we need to capture it," she whispered. Hunkering down behind a car, she bit her lip, going through every spell she knew. "If it's the one that created the bond, we can get it reversed. We'll be free."  
  
Spike stared at her incredulously, looking over his shoulder at the flaming tree. "Capture it?" he said in disbelief. "It's trying to kill us, maybe we should return the favor," he said harshly.  
  
"But, no," she said softly. "I don't want it to die just for that, 'cause that's just mean." Shrugging at his raised eyebrow, she shifted her knees on her knees, wincing at every pebble and piece of gravel that poked at her. "The bond," she whispered, chancing a quick look around the front end of the car. She screamed, ducking back when another red ball soared toward her. It crashed into a car across the street, incinerating it as well. "Um, apparently we need to do something though."  
  
"Stay here," he told her, jumping to his feet. He dove over the hood of the car with a snarl.  
  
She cringed as another ball went flying past. This one a pretty blue. "Dang it..." she muttered, looking around for something she might be able to use as a weapon. There was nothing near. A handful of pebbles in the street, a single rusty nail, and that was about it. "Damn it." Hunkering down as low as she could, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm herself. Focusing solely on the Litchock, she said a quick protection spell, and then... "Discede!"  
  
Silence didn't fall, there were still grunts and snarls coming from a few yards away, so she was pretty sure the teleportation spell didn't work. Forcing herself to look, she dodged her head out to see what was happening, but ducked it back in again when she heard footsteps approaching her hiding spot.  
  
Now silence descended. With her heart beating in her chest, and her worry for Spike in the forefront of her mind, she started to get to her feet.  
  
"Hey," she heard above her.  
  
Stifling another undignified scream, she spun around, scraping her hands and knees on the gravel in the street. "Ow," she complained, glaring at Spike.  
  
He winced the tiniest bit, looking apologetic. "Sorry." Holding out his hand, he pulled her up beside him. "Time to go, I think."  
  
"What happened to the--" she stood on tiptoe, trying to see past him, but he stepped back in her way, turning her to face the other direction. She heard a siren wailing in the distance.  
  
"It got away," he told her, shrugging stiffly. Taking her wrist, he pulled her quickly along behind him, not slowing his pace until they rounded the corner. Once out of sight of the flames and approaching fire trucks, he paused, dropping her wrist to light a cigarette.  
  
"Oh well," she enthused, not letting it get her down. "We can always try again tomorrow night. "I can try a locator spell..." she said absently, "and you can try not to smoke so much," she coughed, waving the smoke from her face.  
  
"What do you care?" he asked, "you're going to--"  
  
She stopped walking, staring at him wide-eyed when he turned to look back at her. "What if I can still get sick and stuff? What if I get cancer and have to live with it for centuries while it slowly eats away at me, killing me with every--"  
  
He chuckled, shaking his head at her. Sticking the cigarette between his lips, he reached back and grabbed her hand, pulling her along behind him again. "You think too much." 


End file.
